A Christmas Miracle
by Sevandor1
Summary: A crisis in early December pushes Megamind to make a decision that will have far-reaching repercussions... Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: While I'd hoped to write a silly,__ fluffy holiday piece this year, my Muse had other ideas, and this one would not let go. It is a direct sequel to my last three stories, but hopefully will sufficiently cover the information pertinent to the uberplot of my fanverse that was brought out in "The Bare Bear Rug Incident" so that those who didn't wish to (or shouldn't have) read it won't be confused. I intend to try to finish this by Christmas, but knowing the fickleness of my Muse, it may take a bit longer (as last year's Christmas story, "Naughty or Nice?" wasn't actually finished until after New Year's). This one will be a bit angsty for a while, but I promise, it will be much brighter before the end!_

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><p>A Christmas Miracle<p>

_The miracle, or the power, that elevates the few is to be found in their industry,  
>application, and perseverance under the prompting of a brave, determined spirit.<em>

_Mark Twain_

Part One

"Sooner or later, you'll have to decide, Mykaal. Do you keep this part of yourself a secret, or do you reveal it to the world? Some people have certainly guessed already, so it's not like it will come as a total shock."

Megamind frowned, the expression more petulant than angry. "You make it sound like I'm coming out of a closet," he huffed.

His answer was a soft chuckle. "Yes, I suppose I do. I know that it annoyed you when some people in the press kept insisting you must be gay just because you're small and thin and dressed and acted in ways they wouldn't."

"Well, wouldn't _you_ be annoyed? It was bad enough, being stuck with getting called freak and weirdo and alien slime since just about the first day I landed here, I didn't need any other inaccurate labels, thankyouverymuch!"

This time, he was answered with an understanding nod. "Nobody ever likes to be tagged with a label that doesn't apply to them, especially when the people doing the tagging are only using it to try to be hurtful. Those situations suck, 'cause you're damned if you do react and damned if you don't, _someone's_ going to take it the wrong way no matter what you do. I know you're not gay, and I also know you're not homophobic — really, you're one of the most remarkably openminded people I've ever met, especially in light of your personal history — but I took the time to get to know you instead of just going on the verdict of the court of public opinion. And that's why you have to decide, Mykaal, and not put this off any longer than is absolutely necessary. Because the longer you wait and say nothing, the worse things might go when you finally do — or when somebody else does it for you, even by accident."

For a long minute, Megamind's frowned deepened, but with thought. "Are you saying _you'd _do it, Phil?"

Still smiling, Philip DeVries — the tall, sandy-haired psychologist who had worked at the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted during the alien's last few years as a supervillain and now counseled him in his private practice, as they were doing today — turned to his most celebrated client and shook his head. "You know I wouldn't, just out of professional ethics, if nothing else. But I believed you had the makings of a hero way before you gave up being a villain, so I think I'm capable of being at least a little more objective about this. Beyond question, you're the smartest person on this planet, probably the smartest person this world will ever see."

When a familiar purple-pink blush brightened the alien's cheeks and the tips of his slightly pointed ears, Phil knew he'd embarrassed him with his praise, but he didn't relent. God knew that if more people had persisted in recognizing his true gifts when he'd been a boy instead of abusing his fragile self-esteem, so much trouble and heartache could have been avoided. "I've always thought so, and when you showed me the hard evidence about why you were the one person your entire planet chose to save, you proved that I was right. You've already given everyone else at least a taste of that proof with the new regional winter emergency system you finally got to show off in action last week, and then there are all the other things you've told me you have in the works that will blow the public's minds away when they're ready to be released. You've _always_ been brilliant with your gadgetry, even when it didn't quite work the way you wanted, but these things you're doing now are a quantum leap above all that — and you're just getting started! Do _you _honestly think that people aren't going wonder what changed, why after all those years of failing you're suddenly not only succeeding, but doing things that are _way _more than technical tricks and fancy weaponry?"

The ex-villain fidgeted for a while, then shook his head in surrender. "No. I know they will. But..." He shifted position in his chair, as if the comfortable overstuffed thing had suddenly turned to a seat of nails. "Some people are going to accuse me of lying, of deliberately hiding the truth all these years, for nefarious purposes. They're going to ask what kind of a hero could keep secrets that could've saved lives." The haunted look on his face said what he couldn't say aloud.

So Phil said it for him. "The people who lost family and friends to things this advanced knowledge you have access to now could've saved." He sighed when the big blue head simply nodded. "So you tell them the truth, Mykaal. Don't make Wayne Scott's mistake and put it off; decide what you want to reveal and then volunteer the information before anyone even asks. Tell everyone that your people had wisely locked away all this knowledge so that you didn't even know it _existed_ until you were a full adult, and that for your people, _that_ didn't occur until some time in the early thirties. And at that, you were lucky, since it seems your mind reached its full adult development about a year before the rest of your body was finished. You know that medical records exist to show the changes in you over the years, and people have seen for themselves that you didn't completely finish your physical maturation until just a couple of months ago."

Megamind winced. "Yes, I suppose they _did _notice that," he grumbled, not referring to the spectacular sales of the calendar he'd made for charity, but rather the sniping of the tabloid press that had followed — in particular the snide remarks and innuendos of one Didi Benton, who'd borne a grudge against the blue hero ever since he'd been a villain and had flatly refused her offer to become his bargain basement Roxanne Ritchi, singing his praises in the press for the ultimate purpose of furthering her own career. Ever since someone had made positive mention of how remarkably hot Metro City's Blue Defender looked in the calendar pictures a day or two after its release, Didi had started a campaign to find fault with it. She'd even gone so far as to speculate that the reason for Megamind's subtle but attractive physical changes were the result of some kind of appearance altering surgery or workout program, an indication that his marriage was on the rocks, that Roxanne was either getting bored with him or he with her, that he was on the lookout for someone to replace her, that he was letting success go to his head and was assembling a harem of mistresses to enjoy when his wife's obsession with work left his needs unfulfilled... The list was seemingly endless, incredibly smarmy, and completely _wrong_. He positively _loathed _this so-called "journalist" for all the lies she delighted in spreading under the cover of "speculation."

Phil knew all this, having heard his friend and client's complaints about Didi — or Dodo, as Megamind privately, and rather accurately, preferred — ever since her venomous attacks had begun. "If you want to permanently shut up Ms Benton and anyone like her, you might consider telling people about _that, _too. About how you and Roxanne _can't _hide things from one another, and why neither of you would never even think of cheating on each other, or separating."

The reformed villain frowned more deeply. He didn't really like to talk about this with anyone but Roxanne. The psionic connection between soulmates that his people were capable of expressing and initiating was the most personal and intimate and magnificent thing two individuals could share, but it only occurred for a handful of seconds during the climax of physical intimacy, only between two people who were true soulmates, and then only after the couple had formally committed themselves to one another. It allowed the two to literally become one in heart and mind and soul, and as it brought them together in total honesty, the joining also brought such complete empathy and ecstasy, it made the thought of ever taking anyone else as a lover utterly repugnant.

He'd told the psychologist of this because he felt it was an important thing for his counselor to know. Phil had initially speculated about whether this might be some equivalent of the biological mating for life observed in some Earth species, but he knew that it wasn't, especially not after he'd been provided with some portions of detailed studies on the subject. It proved that there were indeed more things in heaven and on earth than people ever dreamed, since the two halves of _this_ soul had been born on different worlds more than half a galaxy apart — and they had still found one another. The psychologist frankly found it amazing, and felt that more people ought to be made aware that such a thing could truly exist.

Megamind tended to disagree, knowing from bitter experience how people could refuse to believe anything they chose, or could twist it to suit their purposes. He suspected, for instance, that the bigots would decry this as evidence that Roxanne had married him only because she was under some form of mind control, and the "soulmate connection" was a deceptive cover for a kind of vampiric seduction, designed to use base physical responses to cloud the mind and keep the victim enslaved. Idiots like Didi had already made similar speculations when he and Roxanne had started dating, and any evidence of a genuine psychic ability on his part would be jumped on like the proverbial starving dog on a pork chop.

Now, he simply looked sad and troubled. "And if I tell the public about what Roxanne and I share, and people like Dodo try to twist it into something sick and sordid... _Why _should I tell them? This is strictly between Roxanne and me, I can't _prove_ it exists in any way the bigots would accept or understand. They'd take one of the most incredibly beautiful parts of my entire life and find a way to make me feel ashamed of it! You _know _they would!"

Phil couldn't deny that. He inclined his head in unhappy acknowledgment of that fact. "You're right, people who can't open their minds to accept people of a different race or religion would never understand this or accept it, possibly not even if they themselves experienced it. But you do need to at least be prepared with _some_ kind of an explanation, just in case a relentless busybody like Didi Benton _does_ catch wind of it and tries to distort the truth. Being prepared for something that never happens is better than being caught with your pants down."

Megamind shuddered. "Speaking as someone raised in a prison... yes, definitely, not something I ever want happening to me! So..."

He fell silent for a minute, though one could almost hear his brain working at lightspeed. "Do you honestly think people would be less afraid of finding out that I really _am _a supergenius than they'd be of finding out that I have a psionic ability that only works for five seconds with one person, and then only under very particular circumstances?"

The psychologist spread his hands. "Knowing the way most people's minds work, I'd say yes. Having superhuman intelligence isn't as immediately threatening as having superhuman powers. Sure, your IQ is so far off the charts, it can't be meaningfully measured by any tests or instruments we have, but intelligence and thinking and learning new things aren't alien concepts. That five-second psionic ability would sound to them like a Vulcan mind-meld or worse, and _that _is totally alien to us humans, outside of science fiction. So what is actually your most powerful gift — your intellect and your phenomenal capacity for learning and making use of knowledge and expanding upon it — would be considered dismissible in comparison to that extremely limited and totally harmless psychic ability. It doesn't make sense, but then, a lot of what people do doesn't make sense, it's irrational."

The troubled aspect of the blue hero's demeanor faded a bit. "Dismissible to _some _people, not everyone," he pointed out, thinking of the warped so-called scientists who would be even more hungry to get at him if they knew how advanced his brain could truly be.

Phil couldn't deny that, either. "No, not everyone. But you aren't a child anymore, Mykaal, not in any way. You may not have had the collected knowledge of your entire civilization at your disposal until a year ago, but people have always known that you're smart, and the life you lead and have been leading has taught you a lot about how to protect yourself and the people you love."

The therapist waggled one long finger at his client, though in emphasis, not in scolding. "And that's another thing you shouldn't discount. When you were young and keeping you in the prison was a means of protecting you from bastards who'd try to use you, there weren't a whole lot of people who cared about you and wanted to keep you safe. Now, there are literally thousands, possibly even millions. Not everyone is going to love you, but a lot of people do, all over the world. While you've been going out to defend them and help them when they're in trouble, they've been rising up more and more to defend _you _against the hate and lies people like Didi enjoy spewing. If you acted cold and unfeeling, they'd probably behave differently, but you don't, and that makes a world of difference."

Megamind exhaled in a very soft sigh. "Roxanne's said pretty much the same thing, though she calls it 'wearing my heart on my sleeve.' I know I'm terrible when it comes to hiding my emotions, I always have been — as I'm sure Warden Thurmer and half the guards told you when you first started working at the prison. And I suppose you're both right. I was terrified that letting myself learn so many new things would turn me into some kind of emotionless walking computer, but it hasn't. If anything, I tend to get even _more _emotional when I get excited about new things I've learned and new ideas I get for things I can do with the information. People haven't seemed to mind that, and it _is _rather gratifying, to find more and more people accepting me, and not just because I'm their defender or someone coming up with gadgets to make their lives easier. All the seriously negative crap is coming from self-centered idiots who complain about anything and everything that doesn't fit their narrow definition of _acceptable_. I could lay down and die for them, and they'd still find some reason to criticize me."

"Exactly. By being open and honest with everyone, you _may_ give fresh fodder to the bigots, but you _will _give the people who love and support you more to strengthen their defense of you, and more reason to _want _to defend you. Trust is a powerful thing. If you don't show it, if you cut people out of the loop for too long, you can wind up where Wayne Scott did. Those who supported you will start thinking you don't trust them, and things can get ugly."

"That's why Minion left me, that one time," Megamind admitted quietly. "I didn't tell him what I was really thinking or feeling, and he felt rejected. And Roxanne dumped me when she found out that I'd been dating her under a disguise."

"Cutting off people who care for you or lying to them never ends well," Phil agreed. "Nobody likes to feel as if they're being played. I'm not saying you should spill your guts about everything and give the whole world every single detail of what you're up to and what you're planning — the criminal element alone could obviously try to use that against you — but be open about what you _are_, and what you _want_. If you do that, you'll avoid the trap Wayne fell into, and the foolish mistakes he made, letting everyone else decide what he should be doing with his life. You already know how that feels."

The alien rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, I know! Some days I think that Wayne bullied me because _he _was being bullied by his parents, or at least his father, and neither one of us had the sense to dig in our heels and say 'stop it!'"

"Quite likely. We counselors have a saying about how we all tell other people how they can treat us by what we allow them to do to us. If someone hurts you and you don't tell them to stop, they figure they can keep getting away with it, and they usually do. And if you _should_ finally tell them to knock it off, they get offended because they figure it wasn't their fault, it was yours, and you shouldn't suddenly start changing the rules."

The counselor leaned back in his chair. "The people of this city are going to react according to how you let them treat you, and how you treat them. If you want respect, you have to start by being willing to give respect. Be honest, to them and to yourself, and set boundaries. You've already been doing those things since you became a hero by not letting other people dictate how and when you do that job. You're smart, and you have both a wife and a friend who will always be there to have your back. You're not an outcast alien trapped in a literal prison, stuck playing out a role you never wanted, not anymore. You can do this, Mykaal. You can tell the world just who you really are, what you're capable of offering them, and what you want to do, and you can find a way to do it that will make you happy, not miserable."

The blue genius listened attentively — something he had learned to do much, much better since he'd given up villainy and started making an effort to improve himself for the sake of Roxanne and Minion. When Phil stopped talking, he waited expectantly for a few moments, then smiled wryly. "But you're not going to give me any suggestions for _how _to do it, are you?"

Phil grinned. "Nope. I'll give you my _opinion _about any ideas you may come up with, but I won't give you any ideas — I _can't. _I don't really know enough about what this _Natoshi'ana _thing means, what all it encompasses, and you have to make your decisions based on your own goals and feelings. You can ask Minion and Roxanne, of course, but in the end, even their ideas will have to be weighed against what you want to do with your life and the gifts with which you were born."

Megamind slouched down, head dropping back to stare up at the ceiling, fingers drumming on the chair's arms and booted toes tapping on the floor, out of sync at first but quickly growing less so. When all were tapping together, he suddenly stopped and lifted his head. "Okay, you have a point. A lot of points. Probably as many points as I have spikes on my costume. If I'd just been honest with myself and refused to let Wayne push me around when we were kids, I could've avoided the whole twenty years of us at each other's throats. Which could've wound up either better or worse, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

He folded his arms across his chest, green eyes first focused on something inside himself, then suddenly focusing on Phil. "But... I know you, and I know you expect me to learn some kind of lesson from all this chit-chat. Which, I'm presuming, is to learn from my mistakes — or Wayne's."

The psychologist chuckled. "Well, it _is_ big for a reason," he joked, pointing to Megamind's head, not his own.

The blue genius smirked. "You're evil, you do know that? After twenty years as a supervillain, I should know."

Now, Phil laughed fully. "You were _never _evil, but you did give your all to putting on a good show of it. What you _have _always been is smart, sometimes too smart for your own good."

Megamind snorted. "I used to think that wasn't possible, you know, one can _never _think too much — but I was wrong. You can spend all your time thinking, and not doing. Or vice versa. That was Wayne's problem, he did too much for people without thinking about whether or not he should. And... I'm thinking too much about things now to avoid doing anything about it." The blossom of lavender across his cheeks and ears told how uncomfortable he was, making that admission.

"Then you've already learned something valuable," Phil approved, kindly ignoring his client's chagrin. "Look, Mykaal, you don't have to decide anything right this moment — except maybe to decide that you _will _stop avoiding the issue. It _is _your life, and if you're comfortable keeping your light hidden under a bushel, it's your affair. I personally don't think that would be a wise choice, but it is yours alone to make."

But the ex-villain immediately shook his head. "Not entirely. Aside from Roxanne and Minion, I can't forget that this 'light' is the reason I'm alive today. I know, I know, I have no obligation to live my life to fulfill the hopes and dreams of anyone but myself — but I don't _want _to keep it hidden, not entirely or forever. I _know _I can do things to help so many people, and the more I learn, the more ideas I have, and the more effective I know anything I decide to do will be! And yes, I _do _want to do it for my people, especially for my parents. They believed I had a destiny, and for so many years, I misunderstood it. I know what they meant, now, and I want to at least try to achieve some part of the great potential they saw in me. Isn't that normal? For a child to want to do something with his life that will make his parents proud?"

Phil nodded. "It is — and there's nothing wrong with it, so long as whatever you do makes you feel proud of yourself, in your own right."

The purple-pink tinge that had faded from the blue face returned, though only faintly. "I want that, too. Probably more than anything else."

The therapist now smiled. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. You've come a long way from the surly person I remember from my first day on the job at the prison. Back then, you would've made a big show of sneering at the idea of helping people, and honestly, I couldn't blame you, you've been shown the short end of the stick ever since you landed on this planet. How you managed to keep anything good and optimistic alive inside you, I'll never know, but if I ever figure it out, I'm going to write a dozen texts on it and maybe another dozen self help books and then head to the talk show circuit, telling all about my most famous client, and finally retire a rich man."

Megamind blinked at him for about half a minute, mouth hanging open, green eyes wide, then broke into a full laugh. "And if I believed for one second that you'd actually _do _that, you wouldn't _have _your most famous client!"

Phil returned with the most mild of expressions, gray eyes completely innocent. "Who said anything about you? I was referring to the former Metro Man."

His wry wisecrack just made the blue genius laugh all the more, and the therapist soon joined in. When he could breathe well enough to talk again, Megamind grinned. "And Wayne's been seeing you for... what two whole weeks, now?"

Phil shrugged. "About that. Ever since his last therapist bailed on him 'cause he decided he didn't like having a client doing community service with an ex-con for his 'parole officer'."

The ex-villain made a pouty face that was spoiled by the laughter that kept trying to bubble back. "Does this mean I can't complain about my past history with him and expect you to be on my side, anymore?"

"Nah, it just means that if I hear the two of you bitching about certain things too much, I'm gonna start leaning on you to go into couple's therapy."

"We are _not _a couple!" was the indignant retort, though Megamind was still on the verge of laughing.

"You're a couple of real characters," the counselor replied. "And actually, if things do go that way, it might be a good idea to include Roxanne and Minion, make it group therapy. But _only _if you three check your de-guns at the door, and Scott keeps a leash on those powers he never really lost."

"If he doesn't, I'll introduce him to the inhibition field I _finally_ figured out how to make, just for him." He said it with such a wicked glint in his green eyes, Phil couldn't help but grin.

"It's a good thing you got all this ultra-competitive 'evil' bit out of your system before that brain of yours grew up enough to have all that information from your homeworld released to you," he said with a playfully scolding gesture. "God only knows what you would've tried pulling on him — and us!"

Megamind preened a bit, but mostly out of habit. "Oh, I might've annoyed the rest of the planet within an inch of their lives, but you know I never wanted to actually _hurt _anyone but Wayne."

"Hmm. Well, you can keep sticking with that story if that's what makes you happy." A soft chiming sound from something on the therapist's desktop caught his attention. "Thinking of Scott, I'm supposed to see him professionally tonight — _if _I can get through all my other appointments on time! Are you good to go now? Time's up."

The blue hero sighed and nodded. "I could say that I came in only because Roxanne insisted, but I know that's not true. This has been eating at me for a while, should I, shouldn't I, what if this, what if that. You're right, there isn't much point in trying to keep things secret if I want to use all these ideas I keep coming up with for making this world a better place. It's just a question of deciding, mostly when and how and what to tell everyone."

"And I'm sure Roxanne and even Wayne can give you some pointers to help you out. He can tell you all about the pitfalls, and she has an excellent sense for the when and where and how. You'll do fine, Mykaal, and if there's anything more I can do to help, just let me know."

"As a matter of fact," Megamind said as he pushed himself out of his slouch to get to his feet, "there is. You can tell me whether or not you and Leila will be coming to the holiday party at the Lair next week. Ever since he found out that our homeworld held a change of the seasons festival at about this same time of year, Minion's been spending his every free moment, and some that aren't free, planning this thing. He's terrified that no one's going to show up because he hasn't gotten any answers to the invitations yet." He snorted. "He only sent them out three days ago, but neither Roxanne nor I have been able to put his mind at ease."

Phil chuckled as he closed the pad he'd been using to take notes. "I keep telling you, group therapy would do you all a world of good! But tell him yes, we'll be there, and Leila thinks the invitations he made were just beautiful. She wants to ask him to design some for our daughter Lexi's wedding, next fall."

Megamind made a wry face as he went to collect the multi-layered blue and black leather coat that was a part of his winter costume. "If I tell him that, he's going to forget everything else and launch into his wedding planner mode. He apparently had so much fun doing it for me and Roxanne, he's been itching to do it again. Every time Wayne or Bernard or any other single person we know even _looks_ at someone twice, he starts asking if they're serious."

The psychologist returned to his desk to put away his pad and make a few notations on his computer. "It's a good thing you're not planning to raise a family, then. If you were, he'd already be setting things up for every occasion from their first birthday on."

The green eyes rolled heavenward. "He did ask once, but he realized it was a foolish question two seconds later. Sterile is sterile, and a love for parties is _not _a good reason to bring a child into the world."

Phil looked up from his tapping at the keyboard as Megamind shrugged into his coat. "Are you sure both you and Roxanne are okay with this decision about kids? Neither of you are burying your real feelings to make the other happy?"

There was not the slightest trace of doubt in the answering, "I'm sure. The psychic bond may only last for a matter of seconds, but nothing is hidden. She doesn't have any buried yearning to be a mother, I'm sure I'd stink as a father, and we both prefer the pleasure of interacting with other people's children. That way we can devote ourselves to our careers and each other and not worry about slighting the kids. It works for us both quite well. I suppose it might be something hardwired into me, but the idea of leaving my children in the hands of other caretakers is..." The blue face twisted into a peculiar expression of disgust, shock, disbelief, and something else Phil couldn't quite pin down. "...inconceivable. Even if that caretaker was Minion. It's like trying to get negatively charged particles to attach to the negative pole of a magnet, my head just won't wrap itself around it."

Though he'd heard this same claim from this client before, the therapist was reassured to hear it again. "I could wish more of my clients understood themselves half so well. It'd considerably cut down on the load of family therapy and child neglect and abuse cases I have to deal with."

Megamind smirked as his nimble fingers finished sealing the coat's asymmetrical closure, then swept up the tall fur-lined collar. "They're only ordinary Terran humans, Doctor, you can't expect too much from them. So, can I tell Minion you and your wife are definitely coming next Saturday?"

"We'll be there with bells on. Not literally," he added when the ex-villain gave him a singularly dubious look. For all the blue alien's brilliance, Phil would never fail to be amused by the pronunciations and common phrases that still managed to confound him. _Ah, well,_ he told himself as he gave his client a cheerful farewell salute, _nobody's perfect._

* * *

><p>It was still early afternoon by the time Megamind wrapped up his appointment, so he decided to take his winter-modified hoverbike on a quick turn around the city, to make sure things were quiet and to give a longer test to the new wind protection and heating system he'd installed earlier in the week. He saw Phil on an average of once a month — more often if he could when times were stressful, less often when things were quiet and going well. During his villain years, when he'd been required to see whatever psychologist happened to be working at the prison as a part of their mandated attempts to rehabilitate inmates, he knew he'd been totally obstructionist toward every therapist the state trotted out, including Phil DeVries. He'd probably been solely responsible for the high rate of turnover of people in that position at the Metro City prison.<p>

But as Phil had seen something more in him under his villainous bravado and posturing, so had he always been able to feel that the man had a genuine desire to help, not to force him into some predetermined mold to produce a model citizen, but to find a way for that person Megamind had buried deep inside long ago to come out again. He'd scoffed at Phil's attempts even as he secretly longed for him to succeed in his goal, and now that he had, the blue hero found that he didn't mind continuing to see him, both as a professional and as a friend. He actually looked forward to it.

He knew that Roxanne and Minion would listen to anything he needed to talk about, but frankly, there were times he just didn't want to dump on them, never mind that he couldn't avoid it with his wife, not unless he wanted to put their love life on hold. And that tactic didn't work, anyway, because the moment he started pulling back from intimacy, she knew something was up, that he was trying to hide something from her, and that was always enough to get her to lean on him to talk about it.

Really, Didi Benton was out of her mind if she thought either of them could possibly be cheating on the other! They knew each other so well by now, lying wasn't much of an option. If they tried, sparks were sure to start flying, tempers would flare, the fighting would rage — for maybe a few hours, a day or two, tops, and then the reconciliation would begin simply because they both knew so much about how the other felt and couldn't help but empathize. That invariably led to the kissing and making up, which inevitably led to more intimate expressions of apology and affection, which finally led them back to that brief moment of absolute union in which they couldn't help but completely understand one another. Even if the stresses and strains of life made them forget for a while, they remembered whenever they met as soulmates and for five brief but infinitely blissful seconds were one in all ways, healing any rifts between them.

And the sheer ecstasy of those seconds was almost like a drug, making them want to return to that state in which they could feel intense joy, complete pleasure, absolute understanding, and inner healing. Roxanne had speculated that this was the reason this limited ability had developed in his people, as a kind of ultimate couple's therapy, and though he knew there was much more to it than that, he couldn't disagree. Didi had no idea of what was reality for them as a couple, and if Megamind had anything to say about it, the narrow-minded, spiteful, bigoted bitch never would.

Well, he'd been fighting with Dodo and her foul mouth for years, ever since she'd propositioned him with the "brilliant idea" of becoming his mouthpiece in the media. Phil was right about him needing to make a decision soon so as to avoid the problems Wayne had created for himself when he'd decided that faking his death was preferable to admitting that he was approaching burnout. He supposed he'd known this for a while, now, and had just hoped that maybe if he waited long enough, an easy solution would pop up. The easy solution, he now saw, was just what Phil had suggested: volunteering the information before circumstances did it for him. He still wasn't quite sure how to _do _this without making a mess of things, but this kind of presentation was Roxanne's specialty, and he knew she'd be happy — even relieved — to help.

As he cruised over the city — the streets clear but the landscape still thick with the heavy snow that had pounded them less than a week ago — Megamind was pleased to see that the pre-holiday activity was reasonably well-behaved. A few minor shoplifting incidents and fender benders were easily handled by the police, and the owner of a convenience store managed to thwart an attempted robbery with the help of a passing patrol bot. He knew better than to try to jump in and deal with every situation, now, though he did swoop down to lend a hand by rescuing a kid whose overambitious run down the sledding hill in one of the city's parks had sent him flying well beyond the foot of the hill, crashing through a flimsy excuse for a snow fence and out onto the thin ice of the park's lagoon.

The boy's fearful panic at finding himself breaking through the skin of ice into cold, deep water had shifted to awe when he saw the city's Defender come swooping down to pluck him out of peril and take him back to safety. Even his fretting and scolding mother couldn't dampen the dripping boy's spirits at such a rescue, and though Megamind insisted that he be promptly bundled up and taken home before he froze to death, it was obvious that the boy was the envy of his friends and would be bragging about his rescue — and the fact that he'd actually gotten to ride on the hero's legendary hoverbike, however briefly — for weeks to come.

The boy's attitude was immensely satisfying to the ex-villain, an expression of the acceptance he was now receiving. It was especially gratifying to receive this response from the children, since they often mirrored the feelings of their parents, but without the evasions and artifice adults might use to hide them. Kids could be cruel, but they were also often honest, in ways their elders had long since forgotten.

Feeling enormously pleased, Megamind finished his sweep of the city and his longer test of the bike's new systems, then flicked into stealth mode and headed back to the Lair under the cloak of invisibility. Slipping into the rooftop hangar, he left the bike in the capable claws of the maintenance bots as he went down to the living level in search of something to stop the rumbling in his stomach, which had missed lunch. Alfred and a few other brainbots were there to greet him and take his winter outerwear, and the scent of something warm and delicious wafting from the kitchen had his feet instantly moving in that direction. The utter _stillness _of the place didn't quite register with him until he reached the kitchen entrance. He stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw inside.

It being a Saturday, he wasn't at all surprised to see that Roxanne was home; her only plans for the day had been to do a little Christmas shopping later in the afternoon, when the morning rush crowds had thinned a bit. What he didn't expect to see was Minion sitting at the kitchen table, his habitat dome open so that Roxanne could reach inside and touch him. It was plainly a gentle, soothing touch; the blue genius could see that in her body language and her sad expression, as well as the look of pain on the ichthyoid's toothy face.

That prompted an immediate surge of concern. "Tori! Are you hurt?"

Roxanne looked up at the sound of his voice, a ghost of a welcoming smile flitting across her face before vanishing like dust in the wind. "Not physically," she assured her husband, waiting for him to come closer before explaining. "It's... We just got a call from Metro General Hospital. It's Emily Thurmer."

Megamind felt something inside him go cold and clench into stone at the same time. The wife of Warden Thurmer had been the closest thing to a mother figure either he or Minion had ever known on Earth. Though she hadn't been as directly involved in their lives as her husband, the times he remembered meeting the always friendly and laughing woman had been rare moments of genuine warmth in his childhood, a quiet promise that the world wasn't truly the nightmare it seemed to be. She'd often asked Minion how he was faring, trying to raise his own "little one," and she'd somehow managed to keep thinking of both the orphaned aliens as her friends, even during their years of villainy.

Clawing his way through the sudden fog of shock, Megamind's throat thickened as he tried to speak the word he didn't want to utter. "Dead?"

He would never be sure just how he felt when Roxanne shook her head and said, "No, but a massive stroke. She's in a coma and..." It was the reporter's turn to swallow thickly, her eyes bright with the unshed tears of sympathy for both her husband and his ersatz brother. She took his hand in her free one, her fingers tightening around the slender blue ones. "It doesn't look good, Mykaal. They don't expect her to make it through the night."

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: As expected, I won't get this done in time for Christmas (not unless my Muse keeps me up for three days solid, and I somehow manage to do all the cooking and cleaning and present wrapping and such at the same time I'm writing), but this at least should get things moving along. With luck, I may have it done by New Year's — though with hubby on vacation, it may be more like Twelfth Night. :D In the meantime, I hope all of you have a good holiday, no matter which it is you celebrate, and a wonderful New Year!_

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><p>Part Two<p>

If there was one thing in which Megamind and his wife and his best friend were all in full agreement, it was their strong dislike of hospitals. To Roxanne, it was a place that always reminded her of her self-centered, selfish mother and her neglect, always placing her career as a nurse before her only child. To Minion, they were places to which his ward had sometimes been taken after battles with Metro Man, when he hadn't been able to get Megamind away from them and into his own care. Ever since he'd heard of unscrupulous scientists and businessmen who wanted to lay hands on the blue alien to either use him or dissect him, he feared for his safety in such places, and worried that he might never see Mykaal again, once he vanished into these supposed places of healing.

To Megamind, they were reminders of his unpleasant past, and the specter of what might loom in his future, if he made too many mistakes in his current line of work. With his acute sense of smell, they stank of antiseptics and blood and other things far less pleasant; and to his emotional sensitivities, they reeked of the fears people either brought with them or found when things went wrong, of pain and suffering of so many kinds. His response wasn't a rational one and he knew it, but to him, hospitals felt like places where people came to struggle and suffer and die.

The situation that had brought them there today did nothing to alter that feeling. Because Mrs. Thurmer was in the ICU, hospital policy was strict about allowing non-family members to visit; only one person at a time was permitted, and they abided by this rule. There had been no discussion of who should go first because none was needed.

As Megamind made his way from the ICU waiting area to Mrs. Thurmer's room — if the cubicle could be called that, the need for fast movement of both people and equipment made permanent walls undesirable — he noted once again how the saying that hospitals are quiet places was wrong. The noise may have been subdued, but it was constant and could rise to a roar when needed, and the undercurrent of tension in the air was like an overstretched wire, waiting to snap. Things were calm right now, and he hoped they stayed that way.

As he approached Mrs. Thurmer's cubicle, Megamind slowed his steps, preparing himself for whatever might await. He already knew to expect such things as IVs and monitors and oxygen; it was the emotional state of whoever might be within for which he needed to brace himself. Medical emergencies among perfect strangers could be stressful enough; one among people who were as family to him might be almost unbearable.

Fortunately, as he turned to peer into the "room," he saw only two occupants, the comatose Mrs. Thurmer and her husband. The retired warden looked a century older than he had when Megamind had last seen him, only a week or so earlier. The slump to his shoulders, the creases and shadows on his face, the even deeper shadows in his eyes... The ex-villain knew the posture and the expression too well, the look of a back and a spirit bent under the weight of crushing defeat.

For the better part of a minute, Megamind could only stand there in the shadows of the curtain that could be pulled to "close" the cubicle, silently debating whether or not he should make his presence known. Now that he was here, it occurred to him that perhaps he should have stayed away rather than intrude on his ersatz father in such a time of misery. But even as he thought it, something inside him disagreed, keeping him there. He didn't know why, and that made his inner conflict all the more unsettling.

"Is that you, Mykaal?"

The sound of Thurmer's deep voice kept the ex-villain from leaving, ending the debate. Usually gruff from years of dealing with prisoners and guards and giving orders, the retired warden sounded sad, exhausted — old. It tugged at Megamind's heart to hear it, the way any grown child does when they finally see their parents clearly and understand that they are mere mortal beings, vulnerable to the advances and depredations of time and age, and can no longer deny it. Any thought of turning away vanished, and he stepped out of the shadows.

"Yes, sir, it's me," he said quietly, even though a lingering trace of his old bad boy persona wanted to shout or yell or at least talk as loudly as he could, just to dispel the cloud of tension and gloom and fear that clung to the place. "The receptionist at the ICU waiting area said it would be okay if we came to visit one at a time. I didn't expect to find you here alone. Has your family already left?"

The warden shook his head. "I... haven't told them, yet," he admitted, with some obvious difficulty. "Emily was an only child, her parents are long gone, and what few cousins she has are either out on the west coast or living overseas. My brother and sister would come, I'm sure, they're both living in Saginaw, but I don't want to get in touch with them until I've told all the kids."

By "all the kids," Megamind knew he meant his sons and daughters, two of whom lived in the Metro City area, one in northern Illinois, and one in southern Ohio. He abruptly realized that he himself had been counted as one of "the kids," since someone had called to inform him. Though it gave him a feeling of warmth to have been included in such consideration, he was also puzzled to find the man alone.

It must have shown in his expression, for Thurmer explained. "They're all out of town. After Elliot finished his tour of duty with the Air Force last year, Marcy said something about how long it had been since they'd all been together for more than a day or two. Last time had been a couple years after you arrived, when I managed to get enough time off to take them on a camping trip. Andy joked about how if they all got together with their kids, they could probably qualify for some kind of group rate on a vacation to some place like Disney World, Lisa's done some work as a travel agent and she thought it could actually work, and suddenly, they were all jumping on board with the idea, thinking it would be a great thing to do before their kids all grew up, or got too old for it. They've all been saving since last December to do it — Emily and I even chipped in a little to help them out, make it a really special trip, though she and I didn't want to go, not our cup of tea. They've been in Florida since Sunday and aren't due back until Wednesday. I..."

He paused and shook his head, looking at his unconscious wife, carefully stroking one of her hands, so as not to disturb the sensors and IVs. "I know I should call them, she's their mother and they'll want to know, but..."

His voice cracked, and he had to swallow several times before he could continue. "The doctors don't expect her to make it through the night, so even if I call them right this moment, they can't make it back in time to say goodbye — and even if they could, what's the point? I know, I know, I should let them decide for themselves. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't want to be the one to ruin their trip with awful news that isn't going to change between tomorrow and Wednesday. Maybe I'm hoping for a miracle, maybe I just want some time to grieve alone, maybe..." His words trailed off as his eyes focused on his unconscious wife, his head drooping as he appeared to fold in on himself, collapsing from within.

To Megamind, the sight was profoundly unsettling. Even as he'd aged, Warden Thurmer had always remained full of life, perhaps with less vigor than when he'd been young, but still a proud and vital man. To see him like this, seemingly on the verge of total surrender, was frightening — and yet, totally understandable. If their positions had been reversed... He didn't even want to think it, _couldn't _bring himself to imagine such an awful thing. If Roxanne were the one lying in that bed...

The sound of a deep, deep breath being drawn pulled his train of thought away from that dismal track. "Well," the older man sighed heavily, audibly collecting himself, "I'm sure you didn't come to listen to my family woes."

The blue genius had to swallow to get his dry throat to work. "If that's what you need, I'm willing to listen, sir," he said most earnestly. "I'm supposed to be a hero, after all, and I've been finding out that sometimes, being willing to listen is the most heroic thing you can do for a person. Not that I'm saying you need a hero or anything!" he added hastily. "I came because... well, because I wanted to see if there was anything I could do help."

The warden somehow managed to muster a faint smile. "That's very kind of you, son, and I'm glad you came. I asked them to call you, you know, when the staff offered to contact my family. I thought I should call the kids myself, not have them hear the news from a stranger, but I think the nurses were worried about me being all alone, and... Emily always thought of you and Minion as two of our boys — sorry, I can't remember his proper name, right now, I can barely remember my own."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Megamind assured him. "I use both, and he never complains. He's here, too, he's waiting with Roxanne, but they wouldn't let more than one of us come in at a time."

Thurmer nodded. "Emily and I may think of you as family, but the hospital knows you're not. Damn bureaucrats. Always think they know best when they don't."

In his own way, Megamind knew exactly how the warden felt. Before he and Roxanne had married, there'd been one instance where she'd wound up in the emergency room because of an accident at work; a ceiling mounted stage light had come loose and she'd taken the full brunt of its fall. Unconscious and bleeding, she'd been rushed to the hospital, and because they didn't know the full extent of the damage, they'd listed her condition as critical and had refused to let her boyfriend see her until she was stable and admitted to an ordinary hospital room. He'd had to fight his urges to dehydrate the entire staff standing between him and his lady, and Minion's reassuring presence had been the only thing that kept him from following his impulses. The relief he'd felt when he'd finally been allowed to go to her had been only slightly less powerful than his relief in discovering that her injuries had been far worse in appearance than in actuality. The mild concussion and a bruised shoulder had been the worst of it, and he and Minion had spent the next week and more doting on her throughout her recovery.

That was when it finally, fully hit Megamind, the realization that the man who had been his father figure on this world wasn't here waiting for his wife to recover enough to be taken home and nursed back to health. He was here waiting for her to die, and he was completely aware of it.

The alien had known this intellectually, of course; he'd felt it emotionally as well, but not in the same way as he did now, when the initial shock of hearing the news had passed. As both mind and heart grasped this reality in the same instant, he suddenly understood that this was what his parents had felt, what his entire world had felt as they'd waited for their ends to come, unable to prevent it. All his life, Megamind had known of this; he had clear memories of the days before he'd been sent off to save his life, and he'd witnessed the recordings of the final history of his homeworld and his kin as if he'd been there among them. But the images hadn't carried the same immediacy of _feeling_ as this moment, watching his Earthly guardian experiencing the beginnings of emotional death as he watched the love of his life slowly lose her grasp on the last shreds of her own.

Even as he felt his heart constrict, the ex-villain felt his mind spinning, different parts trying to cope with different things, some very methodically, others in whatever haphazard ways they could manage. The part that prompted him to speak was one somewhere in between. "Sir, I — I really don't know what to say. I'm so sorry this happened, and at such a terrible time, just before the holidays, with your family out of town. If there's anything I can do to help, anything at all..."

Thurmer gave him a small watery smile. "You've already done it, Mykaal, by coming here. You're family to me, you know that, but not like my kids or my other relatives. My brother and sister would be leaning on me to let her go, the kids would be freaking out about the idea of losing their mom or grandmother..." He shook his head, as if trying to dismiss the confusion and conflict.

Something in the orderly part of Megamind's thoughts clicked. "Have the doctors completely given up?"

The older man shrugged. "They're running a couple more tests, they're waiting for the results, that's why she's still here instead of in a regular room or the hospice. But they've already told me not to get my hopes up. There's a lot of damage, and even if they can stabilize her condition enough for her to live, she'll... never be the same."

"Do you think they'd let me see her charts?" He moved to a computer set up on one of the tables alongside the patient's bed even as he asked. The strange look the warden gave him made his former ward flinch a little, realizing that his question had come out more clinically than he'd intended, perhaps rather ghoulishly. "I don't mean any disrespect, sir, I just meant..."

Actually, he wasn't quite sure _why_ he'd blurted out the question. For a moment, he cocked his head as he rapidly scrolled through the information on the computer, all the charts and data on Mrs. Thurmer's condition. When he finished, his green eyes unfocused, his gaze turning inward to examine all the thoughts suddenly whizzing through his brain at lightspeed. Something else clicked, and a picture began to form, beginning with a memory.

"Thanksgiving," he said aloud, though he was still in the process of piecing things together.

Thurmer's tired blue eyes blinked at him, puzzled. "What's that?"

Briefly unaware that he'd spoken aloud, Megamind remained unfocused for a moment, then abruptly snapped back. "Thanksgiving," he said again, now understanding why, and why he was beginning to feel a very odd surge of nervous excitement. "Do you remember last Thanksgiving, sir — not the one a few weeks ago but last year, at the Lair? Remember how I started running off at the mouth about how it could be possible to use nanotechnology combined with genotech to rebuild parts of the human body that are crippled or damaged by accident or congenitally?"

The warden reflected for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, you said you might be able to come up with a way to help people like my son Andy. You haven't mentioned it since, though."

"That's because I've had so many other demands on my time, I couldn't give it the attention it needed. I _am _sorry about that, I've been trying very hard not to let the city and state keep getting first priority, that was Wayne's mistake and I should be doing better than I have been. But something I didn't tell you last year is that I'd already been doing work with some medical researchers, coming up with ways to use the selective cloning techniques I'd used in developing the brainbots to help people who suffer from brain damage or trauma or disease. Their work is still in the lab stages, but..."

Inside, his mind was working at speeds even he would've found frightening, had he not been so caught up in the whirlwind of possibilities he was now seeing clearly as the information about Mrs. Thurmer's condition merged with his general knowledge and all his intensely imaginative thought processes. His eyes were fixed on the woman's pale face, on the various IVs and sensors and monitors surrounding her like a strange flock of sad little mechanical cherubs.

The warden found the look of barely restrained excitement that swept across Megamind's mobile face faintly disturbing, somewhat reminiscent of the expressions he'd worn when plotting mayhem during his villain days. The older man swallowed thickly. "I hope you're not talking about some kind of experimentation, Mykaal..."

The use of his proper name drew the genius out of his distracted fit of hyperfocused inventive thinking. "Experi—? Oh, _no, _no no no, not experimentation, no! I could _never—_! Do you think I'd ever want to... to... to _use _someone as nice as your wife's been to us to— sir, I _couldn't _do something like that, not even back when I was trying to be a supervillain! That's so... so... so _evil...!"_

The shudder of disgust that ended his spate of denial convinced Thurmer. "Easy, son, I just felt I should ask. But I know you were never even the sort of kid who'd pull the wings off flies. So calm down for a second and try to tell me what you _are _thinking, in words a poor old man like me can understand."

Megamind did as requested, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to bring himself into a more manageable, less overstimulated state. When he felt in better control of himself, he let loose the breath in a soft sigh, then opened his eyes, which were still bright with his reined-in excitement. "I know I've told you all about the brainbots, how I cloned the brain cells from a dying dog to make the organic core of their intelligence. That was a very rudimentary form of what's possible with genetic technology and medicine. A couple of years ago, I started working with researchers at a university medical center to find ways to help people with things like Parkinson's disease. _They've _been doing the experimentation, not me, and so far, it hasn't involved any human patients. I haven't done more than give them occasional advice, I've been too busy to do more — but I _know _that it's possible to do more, much, much more!"

The warden listened as attentively as he could under the circumstances — which was actually fairly attentively, as he could feel there was something vitally important under the ex-villain's excitement. "Is this something you've... ah... studied with that Teacher thing of yours? I thought you've only had it for about a year."

The alien nodded. "About that. No, I did the genetic research on my own, starting when I was fifteen or sixteen, but for a long time, I've been able to... _feel _that I've only scratched the surface of what's possible." He let out a long, frustrated groan. "That's not exactly what I mean, 'feel' isn't quite right. But I _know _it, and the more I learn, the more I know there's a _lot _more to learn, about — everything! Not just the things that were sent with me, but other things, new things, things I'm beginning to see and imagine and..."

He caught himself going into a full-bore babble fit and was able to put on the brakes, thanks to grimness of his surroundings and the entire sad situation. "Well, that's really beside the point. What I'm trying to say, sir, is that I _know _that there are things that could be done to help Mrs. Thurmer — to _heal _her, not just bring her out of the coma!"

Thurmer's eyes widened. "You know how to do this?" He knew he didn't dare let himself hope it could be true, but he couldn't stop it.

Megamind pressed his lips together in a thin, hard line, biting off a reflexive _yes._ "No," he forced himself to admit. "I don't know how — yet. But I'm positive everything I'd need to know is in the data my parents sent with me, and I _can _learn whatever it takes to help her."

His green eyes flicked back to the computer with all its information about Emily's condition. Though the prognosis was indeed bad within the limits of current medical technology and skills, Megamind could clearly see at least four ways that the damage might be reversed, with the proper skills and tools. But...

"Is there enough time for you to learn whatever it takes to do it?" the warden asked, voicing his doubt. "They haven't been able to fully stabilize her condition." He didn't have to finish the thought, that because of it, her damaged body would continue to weaken until she simply slipped away.

He was truly startled by the determination in the blue hero's reply, which pushed aside all traces of doubt. "I can _make_ the time, if you'll let me." Seeing the older man's puzzled frown, he elaborated. "I already have the ability to put a person into a state of complete stasis; it's one of the settings on my de-gun, in fact, what I called the 'death ray' because the stasis is so complete, the person appears to be dead. But they're not, and it's totally harmless and temporary. This would be a version of the same thing. In stasis, her condition wouldn't improve, but it wouldn't deteriorate, either."

Thurmer gave a huge sigh of relief. "For a minute, I was expecting you to tell me you've developed some kind of strange superpower, or that you were thinking of dehydrating her."

Megamind considered the latter possibility for about half a second before shaking his head. "That's too risky. Dehydration _can_ work as a very short-term method for transporting someone who's been seriously injured, but with certain kinds of damage — like this — it can make things worse if used for more than a few hours, sometimes more than a few minutes. Stasis would be much safer, and could be used for a long term, if necessary."

The older man snorted softly. "And you haven't tried to give this technology to the medical community?"

The answering smile was bitterly crooked. "I did mention it to the head of a hospital once, just as a possibility. He immediately started spouting off ideas about making a fortune off it by selling it to people with terminal conditions as a way to stay alive until a cure could be found — with no intention of investing that fortune in _finding_ those cures. I didn't want to be part of making an already sick system that sees nothing wrong with profiting from the suffering of others even worse. It's the downside of some of the things I've been learning. Earth isn't Ayalthis; the political, economic, and social structures aren't the same, and what was perfectly safe and beneficial there can be incredibly dangerous and detrimental here, in the wrong hands. That's what destroyed my homeworld, powerful knowledge in the hands of some outsider focused only on profit and personal gain."

He shivered, his voice turned distant with thoughts of the past. "Sometimes, I lie awake at night, worrying that I might turn into my Uncle Varaan, the competent person who was the victim of an incompetent thief who stole from him the knowledge that destroyed an entire star system and all its trillions of people."

Megamind's face had gone dark with memories and worries as he spoke; Thurmer put a comforting hand on his arm, seeing those shadows. "I'm sorry, son, I keep forgetting that you're not little Blue anymore, or even the old Megamind who got his kicks out of designing doomsday devices that didn't work quite right, accidentally on purpose. I can't imagine how hard it must be, learning incredible new things and then needing to decide what's safe for this world and what isn't. I don't envy you that burden, not at all."

His expression grew sadder as he looked at his unconscious wife. "I'm not even doing very well, handling this _one_ life or death decision."

But the ex-villain understood perfectly. "It's a decision that effects _your _entire world, so it's every bit as hard to make. I do want to help, as much as I can. Mrs. Thurmer has meant a lot to me and Minion, but I don't know how long it would take. It could be only a few days, or it could take months. I just don't know. And in the end, I can't even promise that I'll succeed — though I _can _promise to do everything I can, as best I can."

Everything about the slender blue man — his expression, his tone of voice, his body language, all the obvious conscious signals and the subtle subconscious ones the warden had learned to read long ago — told Thurmer that Megamind was completely in earnest. He considered the entire situation before responding. What he was being offered had the potential to turn this imminent tragedy on its head, bringing about a happy ending to an awful nightmare, but it also had the risk of dragging out what might be an inevitable end to the point of sheer torture. He knew that Mykaal meant well and would try his best, and though his rate of success had improved greatly in the last few years, he couldn't quite forget all those prior years of failure after failure. The boy had never deliberately hurt another person, true, not beyond such things as fist fights and self-defense and accidents, but the kind of deep emotional trauma that might result from a failure now was almost too painful to contemplate.

So he thought, and thought, and thought, studying the face of his poor, beloved Emily. He weighed what he desperately wanted against what he knew of her personal wishes and the burden of practicality, and finally reached an inner compromise.

"Do you think you could at least get an idea of how long this whole thing might take and what the odds are for success by the time my kids come home from Florida?"

Megamind hesitated only for a split-second before nodding. "Yes, that much I'm sure I could do. And unless the hospital has miles of red tape or flat out forbids it, I can get a stasis field up and running in a few hours, with Minion's help. That much is just a matter of modifying our already available equipment to generate a constant field rather than a single burst effect."

Thurmer grunted. "The hospital will probably have both of us sign a mountain of waivers to cover their asses, but I know just who to lean on to get their cooperation. A little blackmail in the right places goes a long way toward clearing obstacles."

The reformed villain chuckled softly. "And here you always wanted me to follow your example and become an upright, solid citizen. Sounds like I may have rubbed off a little on you, too."

The warden managed a more heartfelt smile. "Maybe — though if you want to know the truth, Mykaal, you were never half as evil as some of the people we laughingly call our business leaders and elected officials, and I'd been dealing with them _long_ before you came crashing into my prison yard."

They both laughed for a few moments, rather weakly, before the pall of reality settled about them again. Thurmer made his decision. "Get that stasis thing up and running, then, and see what you can find out in the next four days — hell, make it a week. I don't want to keep Emily hanging in this limbo between life and death indefinitely, but I'll admit that having a few more days to consider all the options and then sit down and discuss it with the kids will help. This way, they won't have to try to reschedule their flights to rush home when they'd get here too late to say goodbye, anyway. If you can't find what's necessary or the kids and I decide to just let her go, then we can at least do it with dignity."

Megamind accepted that decision with a simple nod, though inside, he had made a decision of his own. His ersatz father had given him a week to discover whether or not it was possible to save his wife. He would definitely do that, but long before the week was up. Because by the time that deadline arrived, he vowed to know _exactly_ what needed to be done, to have all the knowledge and tools to implement it in his head and in his hands. For the sake of all this man had done to keep him out of the hands of those who would use him or kill him when he was too young and small to protect himself, he would do whatever was necessary now to make this miracle happen, to save Emily Thurmer's life — no matter the cost to himself.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I had hoped to have this story finished by the end of the year, but of course, various Real Life issues (like the holidays and pinkeye) had other ideas. Burning, itching, and gunky eyes simply do not mix well with long hours at the computer! But I've managed to squeeze in a bit of writing here and there, and thus now have this third chapter finally ready, on New Year's Eve. If my Muse is cooperative, I may still have the tale done by Twelfth Night. Keeping my fingers crossed for that!_

_Here at the old year's end, I'd like to thank all my wonderful readers and reviewers for their encouragement and support, especially during the last few months. (My husband, by the bye, is doing very well, now, and has passed his first check for cancer markers with a totally clean slate — and we're both praying it continues that way). God bless all of you, and I wish each and every one of you a spectacular and prosperous and healthy year ahead!_

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><p>Part Three<p>

When he returned to the waiting room to give the others a chance to visit, Megamind persuaded Minion to let Roxanne go first, suggesting that the warden might appreciate a break rather than handle both of their extreme emotions, one right after the other. Roxanne immediately suspected that her husband wanted time to talk with Minion alone, but she didn't object. She knew that even though he could be calm during crisis situations, the ichthyoid was a very sensitive soul and bit of concrete information about the dying woman's condition might help calm him. If Astrid had been here instead of in another city, she could have provided that steadying influence, but in her absence, she saw nothing wrong with letting Megamind fill that role. She found it both touching and amusing, that the once childish and hyperdramatic former supervillain had finally grown up enough to act as the calm and rational one for a change.

She discovered her misperception on the way home, while the two partners in crimefighting discussed how to take the guts of one of the "death ray" tasers they'd been developing for the police department and turning it into a long term stasis field for Emily Thurmer. The reporter, ever curious, didn't interrupt until they arrived at the Lair and Minion immediately headed to one of the labs to start work on the project.

"Isn't this an exercise in futility?" she asked Megamind as she followed him to the curtained off area with his idea cloud and many of his projects still in the early design phase. "I know Warden Thurmer wanted to give his family time to finish their vacation before he springs the bad news to them, and it's very thoughtful of you to give him a way to do it so that his family can have that and still be here in time to say goodbye to Emily. But I was thinking that maybe it might wind up hurting them even more this way, giving them time to build up false hopes. There really isn't anything the doctors can do to save her. Even if they could, her quality of life would be dreadful."

"There's nothing _they_ can do," the blue genius agreed as he rummaged through the drawers of a cabinet full of his drafting implements and assorted half-finished sketches and notes. As he tossed things onto the nearest flat surface, Roxanne smiled to see that one of the sketches had very little that was technical about it, most of the paper being covered by a drawing of her playing with the brainbots near her car. "That doesn't mean there's nothing that _can_ be done."

The determined tone in his voice tugged Roxanne's attention away from the drawing. A small frown creased her brow. "You didn't promise the warden that you'd heal his wife, did you?"

Her own husband shook his head. "No. I promised myself that I would."

The reporter's blue eyes flew wide with shock. "You did _what_? _Why? _I know that Mrs. Thurmer was special to you and Minion, probably the closest thing to a mother the two of you had on this planet, but you can't keep the poor woman in stasis indefinitely, waiting until you have the time to find a way to reverse the damage to her body. Even if you gave up being the city's defender and devoted yourself to this full time, you're not a doctor, it would take years for you to learn everything you need to know, much less figure out a way to do something that right now can't be done...!"

"It won't take years," he declared flatly. "One week. The warden gave me one week to find out if it's possible, and before that time is up, I'm not only going to find out if it is, I'm going to learn how to do it."

He spoke with such absolute conviction, Roxanne felt more than a little stunned by it. "You can't do that — can you?" The first half of that statement was a reflex response, the latter a genuine expression of uncertainty, not a lack of faith in him.

Megamind knew this, even as he felt his own uncertainties. Sighing, he stopped his searching and stood straight to look his wife in the eye. "I know that I _can," _he said honestly, his own eyes full of mixed emotions. "It's well within the capability of the _Natoshi'ana _to learn and develop new techniques in what seem like impossibly short amounts of time. But _will _I do it?" He shrugged, a troubled shadow dimming his face. "I've never tried anything like this before, and every other time I've rushed to do something new, I've messed it up somehow. I didn't tell the Warden that I was planning this because I didn't want to get his hopes up, or have him tell me not to try."

"He probably would've," Roxanne acknowledged, "and I wouldn't blame him. It doesn't seem possible."

The big blue head inclined, confirming it. "For an ordinary person, you're right, it isn't, not even for an ordinary Ayalthan. But I'm not ordinary, Roxanne. That's the whole reason I was the only one of my people to be saved, and why they sent all of their knowledge and culture and everything with me. If I really am as brilliant as they thought and as every competent doctor and analyst here on Earth has been telling me, I have to start living up to my own potential. Not because they think I should, but because I _want _to. I want to save Mrs. Thurmer, yes, and I want you to be able to brag about being married to the genius who did the impossible — and I want to be proud of myself, for finally having the guts to look my destiny right in the eye and claim it for my own. Either I start living up to actually _being _'one of unlimited potential,' or I settle for being a blue alien foundling who landed here and after causing decades' worth of trouble managed to become more socially acceptable and came up with a few neat technical toys that people find useful."

Roxanne caught a corner of her lips between her teeth, hearing the bitterness in the ex-villain's last remark. "You know I don't think of you that way, Mykaal..."

Megamind's nod was brisk. "I know _you _don't. But I know some other people do, and frankly, some days, _I _think of myself that way. Not because I found out that my people had high hopes for me, but because I feel like... like something's been building inside of me for years, something bigger than being a supervillain or even a superhero, and if I don't start _doing _something with it, I'll explode! _Not _literally or the way I did when I was deliberately causing trouble, but like a bubble that just goes pop and leaves nothing behind. I've had over a year to spend staring at an opportunity without doing much anything with it, and it's time for me to... what's the saying? Step off of the plot?"

"It's 'step up to the plate,' sir," Minion provided as he quietly approached, holding a device he'd gone off to fetch. He'd heard enough of their conversation to know what this was about. "I can't say that I don't have any misgivings about what he wants to do, Mrs. Roxanne, but I also can't stand in his way if he wants to try. All our lives I knew that he was capable of so much more than he was allowed or chose to do, and I hoped that someday, he'd finally get a chance to show the whole world not just what he can _do _but what he truly _is._ I don't know if what he wants to do is possible, but I have to let him try."

While he spoke, Roxanne gave the solemn ichthyoid her full attention; when he'd finished, she studied him for a moment more before turning back to her husband. "Which aren't you sure of?" she wondered without any trace of accusation. "Whether or not the medical procedures can be done, or whether or not you can learn all you need to know in a week? Or both?"

Megamind was honest. "I know the medical procedures can be done, I'd already figured out how to do rudimentary forms in a more generalized way when I created the brainbots. I'm positive that the specific information exists and is included in what my planet's educational system sent with me. I'm even reasonably sure that it won't take me very long to track down the exact data gems I need to learn what I'd have to know, the message sphere my parents sent included a kind of index for me to use in finding the areas of knowledge I'm most interested in. What I'm not so sure of is whether or not I can go through the entire course of study in less than a week. But I'm going to try. I already know everything there is to know about the Teacher, how it was made, how it works, how to make duplicates of it, and since there are ways to adjust the rate of transference without impairing retention, I'm pretty sure I can deliberately increase it considerably beyond the ordinary tolerances to compress the minimum time frame even more, so—"

_"What?" _The sharpness of Roxanne's interruption made Minion wince and even caused Megamind to fall silent with a very startled expression. But she didn't back down. "It's bad enough that you want to get a machine you didn't even build, much less design, to try to cram your brain with the kind of studies that usually take eight or ten _years _and finish in less than a week, but to do it, you're going to try pushing it beyond its limits? What if you wind up slagging it? What if _it _winds up slagging _you?"_

Though her final words seemed flippant, they were anything but. Megamind looked away, toying with the papers on the drafting table without really seeing them. "It won't slag me," he replied, though he sounded less than positive.

Which did not go unnoticed. "But it _might_. You can't tell me for absolute certain that trying to push the Teacher beyond its design limits won't damage it, or more importantly _you! _People build things with tolerances and regulators for damn good reasons, Mykaal, and you know it! How many times did you try pushing things you'd invented too far, only to have them blow up in your face? How many times did you get _hurt _because of it — almost _killed?"_

The reformed villain grimaced in frustration, largely because he knew she was speaking the truth. "I know, I know! I've made a lot of mistakes, nobody knows it better than I do! But if the only thing I keep believing in is my past, how can I ever deserve being called a superhero? The only thing I have that can be called 'super' is this brain of mine, and even before I was born, my entire planet believed it was 'super' enough to make me the only one of my people worth saving! Yes, I want to live up to their expectations, and I want to live up to _my _expectations! But I'm _never _going to do that until I take the risk of doing something everyone else says is impossible but my heart tells me isn't. And not something to glorify myself, but to save the life of someone who could've totally ignored the fact that I even existed, but didn't!"

He continued to play with the ragged edge of one bit of paper before abruptly looking up, green eyes bright with a strange, determined fire. "What would _you _do if you were me, Roxanne? What _did _you do when it looked like nothing could stop that maniac Hal, and I just wanted to walk away and give up because I'd decided that defeating him was impossible?"

Taken aback by the question, the reporter blinked at her husband for several very long moments. "I — I told you _not_ to give up, convinced you that it _wasn't _impossible," she said softly, shocked by the strange yet convoluted similarity of the situation. A faint snort escaped her. "Guess I can't tell you not to do this now without sounding like a bloody hypocrite, huh?"

The expression on Megamind's face softened, though the fire remained in his eyes. "I'm not saying that," he insisted. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad for caring about me — I'm _glad _you do, otherwise I might keep trying stupid things just to impress you and the rest of the world. It's you and Minion who give me a reason _not _to be such a self-centered, foolish jerk. But this is something I _have _to try. If I understand how the Teacher works, even if this doesn't turn out the way I want, all that should happen is that I won't learn the lessons properly and I'll have gaps in my knowledge. I promise, I'll test that before I try to do anything with it. The last thing I want is to start something to help Mrs. Thurmer and then find out halfway into the procedure that I don't know what to do next, or I didn't complete some necessary step along the way. I can't guarantee that exceeding the Teacher's preset tolerances won't have any negative effects on me, but..."

He didn't know what more he could say; his shoulders sagged even as his eyes pleaded with his wife for understanding.

Roxanne remained silent and still for only a moment or two before stepping forward to wrap her arms around him. "I understand," she promised, her voice little more than a whisper, and strangely shaky even to her own ears. "I don't entirely _like _it, but I do understand. I hate to admit it, but deep down, I think I've been dreading this."

Megamind's black eyebrows pulled together in such a tight frown, they almost drew a single line. "Dreading it?" he echoed, totally confused. "Why?"

The reporter stepped back just enough so that he could see her face as she answered. "Not because I don't think Emily deserves the help, so don't even start thinking that. But ever since you found those teaching things in your old escape pod, I've been afraid that maybe someday, something serious would happen, you'd use them to solve whatever awful problem needed solving, and... everything would change."

He thought about this for a second or three before he saw what she meant. "Are you afraid of the same thing I was? That if I start learning significantly new and different things, I won't be _me _anymore?"

She hesitated briefly, then nodded. "I guess so. I know I have to share you with the world, sweetie, it's always been that way and I don't really want it to change. I'm just scared that if you do pull this off, the world's going to try to take the lion's share of you, that the Mykaal I know and love will have to take a backseat to Megamind the Hero, and eventually he'll get tossed out of the car and me along with him. It's selfish, I know..."

The genius's green eyes flicked toward Minion and saw a similarly concerned expression on the piscine's face. He then looked back to Roxanne, and a fondly broad and crooked smile lit his long face. "Oh, the two of you!" he teased. "Here I've been spending most of the last year worrying about turning into a walking computer at the _beak and cool_ of the whole world, and just when I _finally_ start getting that out of my head, _you_ decide to pick it up instead!"

"Sir, it's—"

Megamind waved one arm to curtail the correction, his other arm wrapping around Roxanne in a tight, reassuring hug. "Yes, yes, I know, I got it wrong again, whatever! My point, you foolish, fantastic fish, is that you both picked a totally ludicrous time to start worrying over something I finally made a decision about just this morning!"

Roxanne's mouth fell open as she blinked back. "You did? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't really decide anything until after my session with Phil, and when I got home, there was more important news waiting."

"So you and Phil talked about whether or not you should turn into a walking supercomputer?"

He laughed. "That _did_ come up, but it wasn't all we discussed. What we talked about was me making a decision about whether or not I'm ever going to tell the rest of the world about the Teacher and everything I've been learning, stuff like that. He thought I should at least be honest about it and volunteer the basic truth, if not all the details, to the public before I wind up in Wayne's situation, trapped between a rock and a hard place. I don't want to be accused of hiding things and lying, never again!"

"That sure did get you into trouble, sir," Minion couldn't help but agree. "I know you wanted to try to do more with the things you've been learning, to help Mrs. Thurmer, and you told me you wanted to rush it, but you didn't say anything about going public with it."

His ward gestured extravagantly. "Well, I'll only do that if this actually _works_. Going public with another failure, and one so tragic...!" He shook his head, not wanting to start down that bleak and discouraging path.

Roxanne swallowed thickly. "If it _doesn't _work, this could wind up being more than one kind of tragedy," she pointed out, grimly.

Megamind got the point. "I know, you're worried that pushing too hard too fast will hurt me. I don't want that to happen, either, and I'm reasonably sure it won't — but if I _don't _try pushing myself, how will I ever find out what my limits _are? _The people who built the Teacher for me didn't know, they couldn't. There hadn't been a Great One born among them for almost a thousand years, and they didn't know how to test for that kind of capacity on an infant, with the brain and body decades away from maturity. Eight days just wasn't enough time for them to try to measure changes and detect developmental patterns. The Teacher was built to work as fast as it can for an ordinary prodigy of my people, and even with the exchange regulators, I still complete the sessions faster than its specs say should be possible. It hasn't hurt me yet; why are you afraid it will now?"

She chewed on her lip and the question for several long moments before answering it. When she did, it began with a long, whistling sigh through her teeth. "Honestly? Because of past history. I know," she said most emphatically, "you are _not _the person you used to be, constantly losing because you rush into things or don't think them through or let wishful thinking of what you hope will happen take the place of sound, calm reasoning. I _know _that, sweetie, really, I do. But I just have this sinking feeling that despite the fact that you've been doing _so _much better, succeeding so well for the last four years, when something goes wrong and you do fail — and let's not kid ourselves, it _will _happen, nobody's perfect — it's going to happen when so very, very much is on the line. Even if it doesn't hurt you physically, I don't want your heart to be crushed if you give this your all and it still doesn't work. _That's _what I'm afraid of. I don't want failure to come crashing back in a way that will break your heart — or worse, your spirit."

The ex-villain could only stare at her, frozen, mouth open, for what felt like an eternity or two. At length, when he could breathe and move again, he glanced from his wife to his partner, and saw in Minion's eyes the same worry, even though he had come to terms with how much Megamind needed to at least make the attempt. Finally, his stunned expression dissolved into a soft, faint smile. "If you want to know the truth, I'm afraid of that, too," he confessed, a mite sheepishly. "I don't even like to think that failure might be possible because I want this to succeed so badly. But I think that's part of why I have to try. I can't stand by and do nothing when I know there's something I can at least take a shot at. I'll probably be a basket case and need to take off a few months for intensive therapy if I mess up, but if that's how things go..."

He shrugged. "One way or another, I have to start being upfront with people about this, about what I can do and what I _want_ to do. If I don't, I'll either give them a reason to start calling me a monster if does accidentally get out, or I'll think of myself as a monster for the times I stood and did nothing when I could've at least tried."

Though she wanted to argue that he wasn't making a fair assessment of things, as a seasoned reporter and investigator, Roxanne knew he'd hit the nail right on the head and driven it home. She started to say something, stopped, then took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Do whatever you have to; it's the right thing _to_ do, whether I like it or not. And everything that's worth doing has some element of risk to it, I can't argue with that. But if you don't keep me and Minion completely in the loop, if you try to weasel your way around telling us something just once..." Her scowl alone was a deadly threat.

Both blue hands flew up in immediate surrender. "I'm not even thinking of it, I swear," was his earnest promise, offered to both his wife and his partner. "I'll be as careful as I can, but I want both of you keeping an eye out, too, to look for anything I might miss, even if it seems unimportant. I can't afford to screw up this time. I _can't_."

He said it with such determined desperation, neither his wife nor his partner remained unmoved. Roxanne drew him back into her embrace even as Minion stepped nearer to lay a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "You won't, sir," the ichthyoid said with his own quiet conviction. "If you let us talk you out of trying, _that _would be a screw up, and not really your fault."

"That's right," Roxanne agreed, giving her blue hero a final squeeze before reluctantly releasing him. "You've made your decision, and we're behind you, come what may. You've got what's probably going to be a pretty tight deadline, so let's quit talking and start doing."

* * *

><p>And so they did. With all the equipment and schematics in hand, it took only a few hours for the stasis field to be constructed. While Minion and a group of brainbot assistants went to the hospital to install it and get it up and running — fortunately before Mrs. Thurmer's condition deteriorated more severely — Roxanne got Madeleine and her kitchen bots going on some kind of simple dinner while Megamind sat down to the potentially long project of sifting through the case full of data gems to find the ones with the information he so desperately needed.<p>

Had he been given no other system than the touch index — the coding that gave him information on the general contents of each stone when he directly touched it — the search alone could have taken him days, as there were almost thirty thousand of the tiny data storage crystals in the case. But the record sphere that his parents had sent to allow them to give messages to their son long after they were gone was also able to act as a means of guiding him through the gems, as a general index in a library can guide a patron to the specific materials they need, with a little effort on their part.

Minion and the brainbots returned about two hours after they'd left, the installation of the stasis field having gone smoothly and successfully. Roxanne had left Madeleine and her crew to handle the supper preparations while she went to give Megamind an assist by researching the kinds of coursework that were generally needed to become a neurosurgeon, to provide him with a better idea of the specific things he might want to look for. It went surprisingly quickly, and by the time Minion was home and supper was ready, the blue genius had finished his first sifting through the data stones. Though he intended to repeat the process to make absolutely certain he'd missed nothing, he sat down to eat, at Roxanne's stern insistence, with a better idea of the challenge he was facing.

"Eighty-three," he told her and Minion as they settled down to the meal Madeleine had prepared. "I may actually be over-compensating, including a few areas that aren't really essential, but to learn everything I'll need to know to help Mrs. Thurmer, I'll have to go through eighty-three different 'lessons.'"

Both reporter and partner frowned a bit as they tried to do the math in their heads. Roxanne managed to reach an estimate first. "That's almost two weeks, at the usual rate you work with the Teacher," she observed, not needing to point out that this was well beyond the deadline Megamind had set for himself.

"Though that's with a regulated rate of input," Minion pointed out. "Do you have any idea how much you can change that, sir?"

The reformed villain let loose a sigh. "I could adapt the system to output each stone's data in a single ten second burst, but it would be useless. Aside from the fact that that _would _have the possibility of causing synaptic damage, it would be like trying to hold water by pouring it into a sieve. Part of learning is retention, and if the information is given faster than the brain can absorb it, only fragments are retained, at best. I checked the data I have from the tests I made on the neural activity monitor when I redesigned it for the prison last year, using myself as the subject. Based on that, I'm certain I could cut the usual time of my 'lessons' in half, though to be completely safe, I'd fix the rate to a two hour cycle rather than an hour-fifty. An extra ten minutes might not seem like a huge buffer, but it would pretty much guarantee a successful transfer."

While he spoke, Roxanne worked on the math. "That's just barely under a week," she finally concluded, confirmed by a nod from Megamind as he chewed on a mouthful of his sandwich. None of them were really hungry, but given what they were facing in the week ahead, they knew they would need to keep up their strength as much as possible. "And that's without leaving any time for you to switch one data stone for the next."

"That's why I won't be doing it myself. I plan to program one of the brainbots to handle the changes for me — probably Alfred, he's the newest brainbot, and was designed to be exceptionally attentive and dextrous. He doesn't need to eat or sleep as we do, so he can standby ready to perform the exchanges as soon as each cycle's complete, quickly and efficiently. Though I'd want one of you two present as much as possible, just in case. I think we'd all feel better, that way."

The others agreed, though something else occurred to Minion. "If you plan to be asleep for an entire week, you won't be in the best of shape when it's over, sir, not after going without food or water the whole time."

"I'd thought of that," Megamind admitted. "There's more than one way to deal with that, but the most convenient would be for me to load up on high density extended term nutrient rations before I start, those ones I developed for the emergency relief agencies a few months back, and then use a simple hydration IV while I'm under. I'll be hungry and thirsty when it's over, but nothing that a decent meal and a quart or two of water wouldn't take care of. And I know you can handle the IV for me, Minion, you've done it before."

The piscine's amber eyes grew sad with the memories that verified that statement. "I'll take care of it," he promised.

Roxanne thought it was a reasonable solution. "And if you don't mind, I'll take care of keeping Warden Thurmer abreast of the situation. I know," she added quickly before Megamind could voice the protest she saw beginning in his green eyes. "You don't want him to get his hopes up until you're ready to tell him yourself, but if we don't contact him at all, he may think things are going badly and simply give up. I won't tell him exactly what you're doing, just that your research is going well or how far along you are. He needs _some _thread of hope to hang onto, Mykaal, even if it's just the hope that the _possibility_ of helping his wife still exists."

Megamind listened without interrupting, pondered what she'd said for a handful of moments, then acquiesced. "You're right, he should at least have that. Thank you for thinking of that, love, that's why I asked the two of your to keep your eyes open for anything I might miss. I'm sure you'll handle this better than I would."

She smiled wryly. "All bets are off if anything goes wrong — but I'm counting on that not happening. Will you call Wayne and ask him to keep _his _eye on the city this week?"

"If Minion doesn't mind."

The fish snorted. "Mind? If you hadn't said that, sir, I would've suspected that you'd _already_ done some test that short-circuited your brain!"

With matters settled, they finished their meal. Roxanne then called Wayne to let him know that he'd be on duty for the coming week and why — to which the former superhero offered no objections, even wishing his erstwhile adversary the best of luck — Megamind did a second check to make sure he'd identified all the "lessons" he'd need to learn and their proper order, while Minion worked on drawing up the necessary instructions for Alfred so that the brainbot could handle the changing of the data gems after each learning cycle was completed. The reporter joined her husband after finishing her call and started feeding him the dense slow-release nutritional tablets that would keep him properly nourished during the days ahead.

When all else was ready, the spare bedroom was prepared so that Megamind would at least be comfortable during this long, very important sleep. Minion had initially intended to make the final preparations in the master bedroom, but Roxanne had vetoed that, saying that she didn't want any memories of Mykaal hooked up to even an innocent hydration IV haunting the room where they normally spent their nights — and some very pleasant days — together.

"I'll sleep with you every night and spend as much of the next few days as I can with you," she promised him, "but I just don't want images of you like that, in our bed, giving me nightmares."

Megamind had been mildly amused but even more strongly touched by her reasoning, and had surrendered to her wishes without a word of protest. And when everything was ready, he settled down, let Minion deftly begin the IV, gave Roxanne a long, loving kiss, and with a confident smile laid down a placed the glowing, activated Teacher across his brow. Still smiling, he almost immediately sank into the deep sleep the device induced, and the first lesson began.

For the next six days, everything went like proverbial clockwork. Each data gem exchange was completed by Alfred, swiftly and with perfect precision; Minion monitored the hydration IV to replenish it as needed. Roxanne made arrangements with her boss to handle only research and writing assignments for the week so that she could work from home, setting up her computer in a corner of the room where Megamind was "sleeping." She spelled Minion, kept an eye on the scanners that were monitoring her husband's condition, called Warden Thurmer with a general progress report each morning, and slept beside her personal hero each night, hoping that even in his purposeful slumber, he would know she was there.

Six days, twenty-one hours, and fifty-nine minutes later — precisely on schedule — the last cycle completed, the Teacher deactivated, and Roxanne carefully removed it from her husband's broad brow while Minion and the faithful little Alfred watched, waiting for the blue genius to awaken and report the results of his long, intensive instruction.

More than a day later, they were still waiting.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Roxanne was definitely torn between worry and anger. The worried part she understood. After both she and Minion had tried for more than a day to waken him, Megamind remained soundly asleep — or in some state they couldn't identify that resembled it — and that was enough to scare any wife or friend out of their wits.

The anger was less easily defined. A part of it was anger at Megamind for trying this in the first place, a feeling that was immediately chastened with the knowledge that he was, after all, a hero, and had been attempting something not only heroic, but shockingly selfless. Some of the anger was at herself, for not insisting he research what he'd planned to do more thoroughly, not just the subjects that were needed to heal Mrs. Thurmer, but the entire matter of what could happen to a person who did what he'd just done, crammed so much intense instruction into his brain in such an impossibly brief time. And some of it was a completely unfocused anger, the kind of anger one feels when it is the only alternative they have to breaking down into a weeping puddle of hysteria. Not being hysterical by nature, that part of Roxanne chose to feel a kind of anger, but beneath that thin veneer, she knew it for what it truly was.

Minion was no less worried and Roxanne knew it, but he at least had been able to channel his feelings into something more constructive, literally. When twelve hours had passed and Megamind still showed no sign of stirring, the reporter had talked to the warden and gotten an extra day's time — they were, after all, so close to an answer, an extra day or so of waiting couldn't hurt and his children had agreed. But that had taken only a matter of minutes, after which she was left in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar state of helplessness. While she kept watch over her husband, Minion had gone to find the prototype of the neural activity scanner his boss had designed for the prison and connected it to the systems monitoring his condition, to give them a clearer idea of what might have happened and what was currently going on inside the unconscious hero's big head.

What it had told them had been somewhat reassuring, at least at first. The augmented system showed no signs of ordinary brain damage, but Megamind's brain was functioning at such a massively accelerated rate, the visual representation of it on the computer screen was glowing in one solid, brilliant mass of white light. In that state of activity, there was no reason that he shouldn't have been awake and bouncing off the walls, floor, and ceiling, but he remained utterly unwakeable. That concerned his wife and his best friend, as it occurred to both of them that perhaps this incredibly overdriven state would ultimately be like an engine pushed to operate beyond the limits of safety and kept there until it burned out and died.

Minion tried to offer what comfort he could, to both of them. "We aren't seeing any signs that this is adversely affecting him, no hint that it's causing other parts of his body to malfunction or become overstressed," the ichthyoid pointed out while he traded the spent hydration bag for a fresh one, now about thirty-six hours after Megamind should have wakened. "If his brain was deteriorating from all this, that's what we'd start seeing, but we're not. He's not dying, that's for sure, and I can't even see a hint of any other problem. He's just... not waking up."

As she listened to the fish's explanations — which she was willing to accept since Minion probably knew more about his ersatz brother's physiology and how he healed than anyone on the planet — Roxanne glanced at the inactive Teacher and frowned. That device was the root of this entire problem — and yet... "Is there any way one of _us_ could use the Teacher to find out what _did _go wrong?" she wondered aloud. "Because this isn't right, Minion, he's _never _had any problems waking up after an instruction cycle was finished."

"And he never tinkered with it before using it before," Minion pointed out with a heavy sigh. "He told me everything he did, and he tried to make sure I understood all of it, but maybe I just didn't, because it seemed to me that nothing like this _should _have happened. I don't think it even should've been _possible. _But he hasn't transferred much of the information about the Teacher and how it works onto any of our computers. You and I have both been more interested in the cultural and historical stuff, so that's what he's focused on copying. The things that haven't been... well, you know, they're all locked so only Mykaal can access them. We couldn't get any data off of them if we tried."

Frustrated, Roxanne looked for something nearby to kick, but lacking anything she could clobber with impunity, settled for crumpling a paper cup and chucking it into a wastebasket across the room. She missed spectacularly, but didn't give a damn. "I figured as much," she grumbled. "Damn it all, why did any of this have to happen?" she demanded rhetorically. "And why the hell is he still _smiling_? I swear, his expression hasn't changed at all since he went under!"

Alfred, who was still on hand to help in any way he could, gave an odd little _bowg_ that plainly disagreed. Minion backed him up. "It's changed," the piscine confirmed, "just not extremely, especially not when you're here. Some of the times when I was taking the watch alone, he did stop smiling, but never because he looked in pain or upset, just... more like the expression he gets when he's concentrating on something difficult and important. But whenever you come back, he smiles. He knows you're here, Mrs. Roxanne, and I think the fact that he reacts like this is the most encouraging sign of all."

She stared at the blue face, shocked. "You mean, he doesn't notice you, too?"

"Oh, no," was his easy assurance. "He reacts for me, too. If I'm changing the IV bag, he frowns a little — the nervous kind, you know how uneasy he is about needles, he probably has some reflex fear that I might accidentally pull out the catheter and need to replace it. And he smiles for me, too, but mostly, it's like he falls into the kind of comfortable manner he had back when we were younger and it was just the two of us working in cramped quarters. I don't mind it all, because it tells me beyond any doubt that he's not brain dead. He's just... stuck, somehow. I don't know why, and I don't know how to get him unstuck. But he's still in there."

"And trapped," the reporter said without much liking. She pondered all he'd said for a bit, then gave a small sigh. "Thanks for telling me this, Minion, it _is _encouraging, even if it doesn't give us a clue as to what to do next, other than wait and hope that he comes out of it on his own."

The ichthyoid nodded. "If he doesn't wake up by tomorrow morning, I'll add a nutrient drip to his IV. But I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

"So do I," Roxanne agreed, rather unhappily. "'Cause if he doesn't wake up by this evening, I have to call Warden Thurmer and explain what's really been going on. I have a sinking feeling that if he hears what's happened, he's going to want to let Emily pass on, and then all of this will have been for nothing."

Minion was quiet and thoughtful for a minute. "Let me call him," he suggested. "He and I have a long history of trying to keep Mykaal out of trouble and dealing with the consequences when things went wrong. I can understand why you might not want to do that now, you have a lot of your own worries to deal with, and I think I might be able to persuade him to wait a little longer before giving up."

Roxanne's smile was faint, but sincere. "I suppose you do have a better idea of which of his buttons to push. Until recently, he and I only had a professional relationship."

"Exactly. Besides, it seems like your boss likes to stick you with doing in-depth stories on some of the worst bad news. You shouldn't have to be the one always handling it now."

Touched by his concern, the reporter gave her quasi-brother-in-law the best hug she could manage. "Thanks, Minion, you really _are _a fantastic fish. When he wakes up and after he takes care of the more immediate business with Emily, I'm going to make sure Mykaal does some work on giving these robot bodies of yours better tactile sensitivity. It seems a shame that you can't really feel it when you're hugged."

He grinned back. "And I can't feel some other unpleasant things, either, so it's not always such a bad thing, but you're right, that _would_ be nice. And that's the spirit! Not _if, _but _when_."

Her smile strengthened, if only a bit. "When," she agreed. "We're coming up on Christmas in a week or so, after all, and you know what they say about it, season of miracles and all that." Her blue eyes shifted back to her husband, who seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. "I just hope we won't _need _a miracle for him to wake up..."

Her voice cracked on the final words, so uncharacteristic for her, Minion didn't hesitate to return the hug she'd given him, letting the thick fake fur of his robot body muffle the sobs she couldn't keep silent.

When she'd let out as much as she could of the stress she'd been swallowing for the past eight days, Minion patted her back as gently as he could with his large metal hands. "Don't give up, Roxanne, please," he said, his rare use of her given name without any polite title startling her enough to draw her from her misery, if only a bit. "I mean, I'm worried, too, but I can remember plenty of times when Sir was much closer to dying, and somehow, he always managed to pull through. He gives whole new meanings to the word _stubborn_, and this time, he has so much more than just me and a misguided destiny as a villain to live for. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm sure he's going to pull out of this, and everything will be all right."

The fish's steadfast belief in a positive outcome helped pull Roxanne even further from her mire of fearful worry. She managed to give him a shaky smile in thanks for offering his support without making a fuss over it, allowing her to maintain some shreds of dignity. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, taking a deep breath to steady herself before speaking. "Those worse times you mentioned — what's the longest he ever took to recover from something serious?"

Minion didn't have to think hard to remember. "Conscious, almost three months, after his first serious battle with Metro Man, before Mykaal learned how to protect himself and before Wayne realized he needed to be more careful if he didn't want to kill him. Unconscious... almost seven days. It was about a year after he started kidnapping you, one of his schemes that literally blew up on him that he managed to escape from without getting caught. The brainbots got him out and brought him to me, unconscious; he'd been hit in the head by a piece of debris. No skull fractures, but a pretty bad concussion, and I knew from past experience that all I could do for him was to let his body heal itself. That usually took about three days, but that time, it was almost a week. I was scared out of my wits by the time he woke up, let me tell you, but when he did, he just sat up almost like nothing had happened and complained about being hungry and thirsty. He was, and was pretty exhausted because of it, but a few more days of rest and proper nutrition had him back on his feet again."

"It's already been more than a week," Roxanne pointed out, reluctantly.

The fish's entire body bobbed within his habitat dome. "Yes, but during most of it, he was under the influence of the Teacher. So if he's been hurt and he's healing, it might take another week for his body to recover enough for him to wake up again."

It was perfectly logical, and Roxanne couldn't argue with it. But her anxiety wasn't wholly appeased. "He was so sure it _wouldn't_ hurt him. I — it's hard for me _not _to worry, Minion."

He sighed. "I'm not saying you shouldn't, it's hard for me, too. I've just had more experience with him, this way, and I _have _to believe he'll be all right. I just do."

She laid her hand on his arm, a gesture of mutual sympathy that she knew he'd understand, even if he couldn't directly feel it. "We both just have to hang in there, and do whatever we can. I wonder if—"

Whatever she'd been wondering was interrupted by the warbling of her cell phone, which was currently lying on the night stand on the side of the bed where she'd been sleeping. Being closer, Minion picked it up and checked the caller ID. "It's Warden Thurmer," he told her. "Do you want to take it or should I? I did promise I'd talk to him."

She nodded, running one hand through her short dark hair. "Go ahead. May as well get everything out in the open."

While the piscine took the call, Roxanne had to give him credit for his deft handling of things. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have had any trouble with it, given her years of experience as a reporter and interviewer, but today, her professional cool seemed too fragile to manage it. As she moved over to the bed and perched on the edge alongside the still unconscious Megamind, she knew why. During the years they'd been together as a couple, she'd never seen him go for more than a day or two, oblivious to the world. Usually it had been due to sheer exhaustion, and she'd known that when he'd had enough sleep, he'd wake up again, his normal energetic self. A few times, he'd been injured as well, but the injuries had been of a sort that was familiar, and the progress of healing easily followed and predictable.

This... This was a nightmare. There was no predictability, no known condition that could be monitored, no knowing if when he finally awakened, he would be at all the same person he had been before this situation had begun. Minion's attempts at reassurance gave her some reasons to hope for the best, but she was afraid to. Afraid that if she did, she might somehow jinx it, like praying for her Grandma Caldwell hadn't helped one bit. One minute she'd been happy and smiling and cheerful, watching ten year old Roxanne open her Christmas gifts, and the next, she'd fainted — from the heat in the room, Grandpa had said, but she didn't wake up, and the medics had come and attached tubes to her and taken her to the hospital, and Roxanne had prayed and prayed, but she didn't wake up, she stayed unmoving and silent, and when they took the tubes away, she was still smiling while she died...

Roxanne gasped raggedly as the memories from her childhood came flooding back, memories that she hadn't even realized how ruthlessly she'd been keeping pushed away. There was so much here that felt so similar to that massive, horrible aneurism that had taken her sweet grandmother from her so many Christmases ago. Megamind hadn't gone to sleep because of something like that, but when he didn't rouse as he should have two days ago, a part of Roxanne had filled with the fear that in pushing himself beyond the limits he knew were safe, her husband had caused something in his head to break or fail, bringing about the very condition he'd wanted to learn to heal.

The monitors and sensors could say "no" all they wanted, but the part of Roxanne that loved her husband even more deeply than she had her favorite grandmother couldn't let her believe that things would be well until they were. It was a stupid, foolish paradox and it went against everything her normally strong and confident self stood for — but there it was, the aching fear of the little girl who had learned a harsh, bitter, awful lesson about life and death and ruined hope on a long gone Christmas Eve.

This flood of realization brought the tears back to Roxanne's eyes as she studied Megamind's peaceful face. She touched his cheek with a trembling hand, shuddering faintly when he seemed to smile just a bit more at her caress. It was encouraging, but...

"Don't leave me, Mykaal," she whispered, not caring if her voice was broken and unsteady. "I know, I've been saying I'm mad at you for rushing into this, but I'm not, really I'm not. I just need you to be okay and wake up so I can tell you how proud I am of you for even wanting to try. Just don't leave us like this, please."

As she heard Minion wrapping up his talk with the warden, on silly impulse, she leaned forward and softly kissed her husband on his smiling lips. She felt foolish for the pang of disappointment she felt when he didn't waken like all the princesses in the fairy tales, but then, he was no princess.

"Mrs. Roxanne?" At the sound of Minion's question, she turned toward him and saw him holding the phone as one would to muffle their conversation from those on the other end. "I've told Warden Thurmer everything we know about what's happened, and I think he understands. He and his family would be willing to wait a little longer, but they want to have everything over and done with by Christmas if — if Mrs. Thurmer can't be helped. He wants to know if it would be okay if he and his children came over. He knows they can't do anything to help, but he thinks that if they can all see exactly what's going on here, it might make it easier for them to make a decision, whether or not to wait much longer. I don't think Sir would object, but I wanted to make sure you're okay with it before I say yes."

The reporter swallowed thickly as she considered the request. On one hand, there didn't seem to be any harm in it; on the other, there didn't seem to be any point to it, either. Her protective side wanted to say no, wanted to keep these gawking strangers from seeing poor Mykaal so vulnerable, but her rational, caring side reminded her that these people were grieving, too, living in a limbo of fear that could _only_ end in death unless the blue genius woke up, safe and sound and armed with the knowledge of how to heal what current medical technology said could not be healed. If seeing him somehow helped them come to terms with what they felt they needed to do, she couldn't deny them.

She nodded. "Tonight, or tomorrow," she told him. "I want to at least not _look _like a wreck when they come."

He passed on her conditions as to the time, received a reply, settled the matter, then said goodbye. "Tomorrow," he told Roxanne when the call was ended. "I think the Warden's hoping Megamind's just being stubborn and will wake up after he's given us a good scare. He did pull stunts like that when he was younger, usually just to annoy the prison guards. And I think it's better that way, we could both do with some rest. I know I've hardly slept a wink since the Teacher shut down and he didn't wake up like he usually does."

"Same here," the brunette admitted. "I feel like I could do with a few hours in the whirlpool, and another hour in the shower. Do you think Alfred can keep an eye out here for a while, alone?"

The ichthyoid considered that. "He could, but giving him some help wouldn't hurt. If you don't need Pinky to help you clean up, she'd be a good choice, and Splinter. He used to help me take care of Sir when he was hurt, before you moved in and helped instead. He'll be happy to have a chance to do that again."

Roxanne agreed with these arrangements, and so they were made. When the three brainbots had been given explicit instructions as to what they were expected to watch and what they should report, they were left to man their posts while Minion and Mommy went to take care of themselves. Alfred took up his position nearest to Daddy, keeping a careful eye on him, as he was Daddy's special personal assistant. Pinky kept an eye on the IV and other sensor attachments, just in case one should come loose or the IV need replenishing. Splinter — who had been doing work watching the Lair's security monitors and checking them for malfunctions when he hadn't helped Minion as a medic's assistant — was left to keep his eye on the various readouts for Daddy's condition.

Splinter knew all about medical monitors, of course, starting in the days long before Mommy had come to live in the Lair, when he'd helped Uncle Minion take care of Daddy when he was sick or hurt. He knew lots of things about what these readings meant, just as he now knew lots of things about what the diagnostics for computers and even brainbots meant, when they were working properly or when they were sick. And as he diligently watched and studied all the information, the new and very interesting data being shown by this neural activity monitor made him think of one particular status term, something very familiar to him that was especially fascinating, just because he'd never seen anything that made it seem to apply to a wholly organic _person_ before.

_Compiling. . ._

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: I'm dreadfully sorry about the long delay in getting this chapter up, but getting it written was like pulling teeth! Dementia had different ideas about how she wanted it to play out, and couldn't seem to settle on one until today. So thank you all, readers and reviewers and followers alike, for being patient and waiting. There'll be one more chapter to go, before it's on to the next story! And a special thanks to Karen B. Jones, whose humorous review of the last chapter gave my Muse an idea for a line that had been plaguing me (for a variety of reasons). I think this hit the nail on the head! :)_

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><p>Part Five<p>

As Minion had arranged with the Thurmers to meet at the Lair around three the following afternoon, he and Roxanne had a chance to catch up on their sleep, even fitfully. When she returned to the guest room where her husband was still sound asleep, the trio of brainbots on watch had reassured her that all was well, there had been no change.

Splinter in particular seemed to want to reassure her, odd behavior that she chalked up to the little bot wanting to make a good impression on Mommy in his first assignment, working with her. She patted his dome and smiled, wishing she could understand these older bots as well as she could the newer ones; it had taken her time to gain a decent level of actual communication with Pinky, and that didn't seem to carry over to all the other bots of the earlier generations. Splinter appeared pleased by this indication of understanding on her part. He dutifully returned to his post as Roxanne slipped into bed, carefully snuggled up to Megamind's side, and eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.

Though it wasn't the most restorative rest they'd ever experienced, both she and Minion managed to sleep in later than usual, largely because their bodies knew they needed it to keep functioning. The reporter had wakened maybe five minutes before her quasi-brother-in-law tapped at the door and entered quietly, not wanting to disturb her should she still be asleep. "Any changes?" he asked, bringing in a tray with a breakfast Madeleine had thoughtfully prepared.

Roxanne shook her head, an answer as well as an attempt to clear the sleep cobwebs from her mind. "Not unless the monitors say so, I haven't been up long enough to check." While Minion went to have a look at the various readouts, Roxanne lifted herself onto her elbows to kiss her still unconscious husband's cheek. She thought for a moment that she saw a movement under his closed eyelids, perhaps a prelude to them opening, but if he _had _moved, the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

At the foot of the bed, where the screens for the systems monitoring Megamind's conditions had been set up, Splinter hovered at Minion's side, making the same sounds he'd given to Roxanne last night. "I have no idea what he's trying to say," she admitted. "He doesn't seem upset, so I figured it was a 'no change' thing."

"Pretty much," the ichthyoid confirmed. "That's the sound he makes when he's reporting on the status of program diagnostics he's running, sort of a 'system operating normally' situation. If nothing changed in the status on the monitors since last night — and it hasn't — that's what I'd expect from him."

Pinky came and took the breakfast tray from him while he checked the readouts, then the IV. The brainbot settled the tray on the bed so that Roxanne could comfortably eat and see both her husband and Minion. "I'd rather hear that things are improving, but I guess not getting any worse is okay." While Pinky ever-so-carefully set down the tray, the reporter reached over and gently caressed Megamind's cheek, which to her relief was still warm and soft and its normal healthy lavender-tinged sky blue. She had an odd fear that if he were slipping away from them, he'd start to grow as cool to the touch as his coloring suggested, but so far, no change. It was silly, but she'd take any relief she could get at this point.

She glanced at the clock on the far wall of the room to see what time it was. Half past eleven, and from the light filtering through the windows high on the wall to the right of the bed, she knew it wasn't night. She loosed a little sigh. "The Thurmers are coming at three, right?"

Minion nodded as he finished changing the hydration IV. "Just the warden and his four children, not the entire family. They're really the ones who have to decide what they want to do next." His flat, fishy face pinched slightly in a small frown. "I _really _hope they don't want to give up right away. I just _know _Sir will come out of this, and it'll break his heart if he finds out he's too late to help Mrs. Thurmer. Not to mention what it might do to his self-confidence. All this knowledge he has at his disposal, now, and if the first time he tries to do something important with it, it turns out to be all for nothing..." The piscine couldn't have looked sadder had he tried.

"It wouldn't be for nothing, Minion," Roxanne said, trying to be encouraging even though she herself felt little of it. "If he wakes up knowing how to heal this kind of brain damage, he can find ways to make it possible for other people to do it, so that a _lot_ of other people can be helped, and if they can heal this, they could heal almost anything. That isn't nothing, not by a long shot. Though," she added with her own touch of sadness, "it might've been better if he hadn't wanted to learn this to save someone who was almost a mother to him. _That_ would be the real problem, if he wakes up and can't help Mrs. Thurmer because her family decided to let her go. He'd feel like they'd lost faith in _him, _like they didn't believe it was worth the wait because they didn't trust that he could do it."

Minion flittered his fins as a human would wring their hands in nervousness. "That's what I'm afraid of. If I had any way of figuring out exactly what went wrong and just when Sir will finally wake up, I'd do everything I can to talk them into waiting for however long it takes. But it's not right to make them keep hanging indefinitely."

Splinter came up and nudged Minion's arm in what looked like the way a faithful dog might nuzzle its master, sensing his upset. He bowged several times, in what seemed like a very confident, supportive manner. "Three forty-five," the ichthyoid interpreted for Roxanne. "Yeah, that's about how long we have until they arrive, Splinter — though your internal clock must be off a bit, I'll have to see about adjusting it later."

Finished with the IV, he collected the spent bag with a tiny sigh of his own. "Have Pinky take the tray back to the kitchen when you're finished," he told Roxanne. "I'm going to check in with Mr. Wayne, give him an update on the situation."

Roxanne nodded soberly. "He's been a brick through all this, taking on his old job full time so you and Mykaal don't have to worry about the city. If I didn't believe the two of them are genuinely friends before, I'd be convinced now. Wayne's even been going out of his way to give Megamind as much credit as he can for how secure the city is these days, and making sure people feel sympathy for their official Defender being 'under the weather.' Though that excuse won't hold much longer, not unless we turn 'a case of the flu' into something more serious."

Minion agreed. "The last time I talked to Mr. Wayne, he suggested that maybe he could say he was giving Megamind a break until after the holidays, seeing that he'd just been sick. I think he was going to suggest that as a sort of Christmas present for both of you, anyway."

Roxanne perked up a bit at that. "He did? That's sweet of him, I know how hard it is to buy things for a guy who has more money than God, or even just Walmart. If — _when _Mykaal wakes up, when all this is over, I'm sure he'd appreciate a break. I know I will, even if I have to take him up on his offer to start a whole new network just for me, so I can be my own boss and set my own hours."

"I think you really _ought_ to take him up on the offer," was the piscine's honest opinion. "You're much better than any of your so-called colleagues, because you really, truly do care about people and getting the truth out there. Not like all these other networks that just want to make money, and will say anything or broadcast anything if it pays enough for themselves and their cronies, and keeps their business as usual going. You could start a whole new kind of reporting: the _real _stories, not the ones skewed or slanted or prettied up to fit someone's private agenda. It'd be great!"

Roxanne waved her bagel at him, smiling crookedly. "Don't you get started on that!" she warned. "The idea sounds good — and it's tempting, I admit — but it'd be a hell of a lot of work, most of it the kind I don't like to do. Maybe I'd let him set me up with my own webcast or something, but not an entire TV network. I'd wind up doing administrative monkey work, not reporting and research and interviewing, the things I really love.

"Besides," she added more gently, expression softening as she looked at the obliviously sleeping Megamind, "I'm beginning to think that there might be even _more_ important work for me to do. I always thought that Mykaal and I were a team as hero and reporter, but just the few hours I spent helping him by doing research before this started made me think. If he wakes up and everything he wants to do actually happens... This is going to change things, Minion, not just for him or me or you, but for the whole world. And if someone who cares for _him_ more than for just the things he can do isn't there to run interference for him and find ways to present things that won't either freak people out or bring them pounding on the doors, demanding he work more and more miracles for them..."

She stopped to take a breath, shaking her head. "There are more important things than being a star reporter for a big network," she said, brushing her bangs from her eyes. "Being someone who loves him and who will find ways to help him achieve his own dreams and protect him from exploitation... You did that for him when he was trying to conquer the city. I think now it's _my_ turn to step in and do it before the world finds out what he's _really_ capable of doing and tries to conquer _him _with their demands."

Minion's answering smile was gentle, despite his fierce teeth. "You'd do a wonderful job, too, Mrs. Roxanne, I'm sure of it. I guess we'll have to wait and see what Sir wants to do about it, when he wakes up."

The way they were both adamantly saying _when_ rather than _if_, Roxanne was beginning to suspect showed their doubt just as effectively. She deliberately avoided making an issue of it. "I'll go clean up as soon as I'm finished here. Is there anything on today's schedule that I can work on from here until the Thurmers arrive?"

The fish's smile faded. "Yes, we have call everyone we called last week about delaying the Christmas party and let them know it's going to be cancelled. Even if Sir woke up right now and had everything done for Mrs. Thurmer today, it's getting too close to think about throwing a big party. People will be wanting to finish their own preparations for the holiday, and with all that's been happening — or not happening — here, I haven't gotten enough done to possibly be ready before Christmas Eve. And I don't think postponing it again until New Years or something would be a good idea."

The unspoken thought — fear, to be honest — that they would have to postpone indefinitely or forever hung thickly in the air. Roxanne's nod was equally heavy, but pragmatic. "That's probably the best idea. Even if he woke up this instant, I doubt Mykaal would feel much like partying. He's going to _hate_ the fact that something went wrong."

She glanced at the IV; movement in the drip through the line had caught her eye. "Have you started the nutrients, yet?"

Minion shook his head, fins a-flutter. "I thought I'd do that after the warden and his family leave. Seeing one line looks like just a precaution; two might be too disturbing, look too serious, remind them of Mrs. Thurmer and... well, you know."

She did. And so, they continued to watch and wait.

* * *

><p>Roxanne was relieved that they didn't need to explain what had happened to the friends and family who had been invited to a party that now had to be cancelled, not postponed. Wayne's cover story of Megamind being under the weather had already reached them, and though some suspected that "the flu" might actually be a way of saying he'd been hurt while working on something at the Lair and didn't want to embarrass himself by admitting it in public, they still knew how much it sucked to be sick or injured during a time of year when many people were celebrating and having fun. They all wished him a swift recovery and meant it sincerely.<p>

Some of the calls had been quick, others much longer, especially since Roxanne had fielded the calls to those of her personal friends and family members who'd been invited. She took the chance to do a few extra minutes of catching up with them to make the hours of waiting go by more quickly. The ploy worked; when she finished the last of her calls, it was almost three o'clock, time for the Thurmer family to be arriving.

They were running behind schedule due to traffic between the downtown and the old industrial area in which the Lair was located, but when they finally arrived, about a half hour late, Minion went to escort them into the living quarters. Roxanne tidied the room and did what she could to make sure that Megamind was comfortably tucked in, so that it was clear that he was merely sleeping rather than sick or dying. She studied his face after adjusting the pillows under the enormous blue head, and sighed.

"If you'd just wake up now, sweetie, this would all be _so _much easier," she told him as she gently caressed his face. He still looked perfectly healthy, if also perfectly dead to the world, and she wished _something _would change, _anything, _just to give them a sign that he would be returning to them soon, not lost forever in this limbo of somnolent unlife. But his only answer was the movement of his breathing, the same regular inhalations and exhalations that they'd been watching for well over a week, now.

Roxanne's sigh was heavier with resignation. "Guess not. I don't suppose you're seeing anything new on the monitors, either, Splinter?"

The brainbot gave a series of bowgs and chirping noises much like those Minion had interpreted that morning. "System operating normally, three forty-five," the reporter said, winning a bouncing bowg that was the common brainbot equivalent of an affirmative nod. She smiled wryly. "Well, if the system that's operating normally is your Daddy, I suppose that's a good thing. But Minion's right about needing to fix your internal clock, sounds to me like you're stuck—" Something else suddenly occurred to her. "Or are you trying to give us some sort of system code? Like a 400 error?"

She couldn't tell if Splinter's answer was yes or no or something else entirely, as the sounds of voices and footsteps from the corridor heralded the arrival of Minion and the Thurmers. Figuring that if Splinter was reporting an error, it couldn't be a significant one since he was still insisting that systems were operating normally, Roxanne put it out of her thoughts for now.

She was standing near the monitors at the foot of the bed when the door opened and their guests entered with Minion; she tried her best to give them a convincing smile of welcome. The retired warden she knew well, of course, and though she was less familiar with his four children, she was fairly certain she knew which was which. The eldest, the sandy-haired Lisa McCormack, was about five years older than Mykaal, and had been quite happy as a stay at home mom after her first child had been born, giving up her part-time work as a travel agent in Naperville, Illinois. Dark-haired Elliot, two years younger than his sister with a home in Fairborn, Ohio, had been a specialist of some technical sort in the Air Force, until he retired from active duty just over a year ago. Their younger brother, Andrew, worked here in Metro City, though Roxanne couldn't recall his field; sandy-brown of hair, bright-eyed, and of a generally cheerful demeanor, he was the same age as Megamind, and had been born with severe curvature of the spine, a condition the blue genius had already been at work learning how to correct before Emily had had her stroke. Marcia Schaumberg, the youngest by two years and dark haired like Elliot, also lived in the area, and shared a dental practice with her husband in one of the southern suburbs.

Ever the reporter, Roxanne remembered these factual details of the five people whom Minion escorted into the room. But today, they were not the embodiment of those details but simply five human beings, clearly worn and exhausted by the stress of the past week, people struggling to find some kind of answers, some kind of balance in a situation that was pulling them in all directions at once.

She thought how she would feel in their shoes, how she might react if Megamind had been the one struck down by a stroke and she had been offered a possibility for his recovery that seemed to be slipping farther away with each passing minute. She thought she knew how she would choose, then realized she didn't know at all. She loved her husband enough to want to keep him with her forever, to grasp at any and all straws of hope for as long as she could — and yet, she also loved him enough to want to release him from suffering or from an undead limbo, if hope became no more than wishful thinking that delayed the inevitable.

She couldn't choose for these people, nor could she force them to the choice she wanted them to make. She couldn't do it, if for no other reason than that before long, she might be the one faced with a similar dark decision, should Megamind's coma prove to be permanent.

She was about to move away and let Minion do all the talking when Warden Thurmer came and put one hand on her arm — gently, like a caring father comforting a distraught child. "I'm sorry we're so late," he apologized. "Traffic was unbelievable, and I got turned around once, trying to find the road out here. Stupid, since I've driven it often enough before. How's Mykaal doing today?"

He was being polite, Roxanne knew, since she'd heard Minion give him the report that morning, but far be it from her to rebuff his kindness. "The same. He's not getting any worse, he's not waking up, he just... keeps sleeping."

"You're sure he wasn't hurt by whatever he did?" Andrew asked, limping over to get a better look at the monitors displaying what information they could about the ex-villain's condition.

Roxanne remembered then that Andrew was a nurse in one of the city-sponsored clinics that offered help to the poor and disabled — a noble profession, given his own physical handicaps. Minion provided the answer to his question. "As sure as we can be, Mr. Andy," the piscine assured him. "All his vital signs are completely normal; the only thing unusual is the level of synaptic activity, and the fact that he won't wake up. This is the prototype of the system Sir designed to replace the old brain scan monitor in the prison's special isolation cell. The solid white indicates an extremely high level of activity, more than even this system is capable of handling, I think, that's why we're not getting any real detail to it. He's been like this ever since I brought the equipment in, after his teaching sessions ended and he didn't wake up as he should." The tone of his voice made it clear that Minion somehow blamed himself for this.

"I'm sure you must be right about him just needing time to heal from an information overload," Roxanne assured her quasi-brother-in-law. "He's never tried to do so much so fast, this way, so he couldn't've known how he'd handle it — and neither could you."

"He doesn't _look _sick, or hurt," Lisa noted, having been studying the blue alien, whom she had only seen close-up in the flesh once before, just after he'd begun his work as a hero. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he's playing some kind of trick, the way he's smiling. It almost looks like he's hiding something."

The reporter's own smile was wry. "We already thought of that. He might try pulling a stunt like that on just Minion and me, but he knows how important this is. He wouldn't do it to all of you."

Marcia clicked her tongue at her sister. "It's not a trick, Lisa, I've seen that sort of look on the faces of people Tim and I have to put under with nitrous oxide for dental surgery. The gas gives them a happy feeling, it's not real, but it's nicer than feeling the pain or anxiety."

She glanced from Megamind to Roxanne and Minion. "This teaching process doesn't involve any drugs, does it? The coma might be a reaction to them, if he's been drugged."

But Minion was most emphatic, his entire little body moving in an indication of the negative. "Sir doesn't like using drugs of any kind if he can avoid it, especially the kinds that cause drowsiness or cloud your thinking. That's very important to him, being able to think clearly. The Teacher induces a state of sleep, but nothing like a drug, and it's never been harmful. Both Mrs. Roxanne and I have used it, and it certainly never caused us any harm."

Warden Thurmer sighed heavily. "But the two of you never tried to rush things, did you?" From his tone of voice he was already aware of the answer.

"I've only used it once," Roxanne admitted. "What Mykaal can learn in under four hours takes me a _lot _longer. It's not that I don't have the patience — you don't even notice time passing when you're using the Teacher — but I don't _have_ the time, very often, and he'd have to unlock the crystals so I could use them, anyway, and _he_ just doesn't have the time for that, either—"

The words had come tumbling out of her in a rush so much like one of Megamind's babble fits, she stopped herself with a huge, trembling gasp. The warden squeezed her shoulder in sympathy while his children looked on in apology. "None of us are trying to blame anyone, Mrs. Thejhan," said Elliot, who had been a silent observer up till now. "It's been a hard time for all of us, and we know your husband was only trying to help. It seems funny to think of that, after all those years he tried to convince the world he was evil, and now..." He shook his head, sadly. "It would be plain awful if he was hurt when all he wanted to do was good. Especially if he's hurt like—" He bit off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to say aloud what everyone already knew. Like his mother,with a once lively and active brain damaged beyond repair.

The retired warden took a long, deep breath. "Well, I suppose this is beside the point. What we all need to do is try to come to some kind of a decision about what should happen next, and when. It's not quite a week until Christmas, and I don't think any of us want this hanging over our heads indefinitely, not with out some solid reason to delay. I have to admit, Mykaal really does look like he's just sleeping, but we don't know that if when he wakes up, he'll be able to help Emily, do we?"

"Not for sure," Minion confirmed. "He seemed very confident that he _could, _but accelerating the process as much as he did may have incomplete results. He didn't have time to test it first, but—" He hesitated, plainly anxious. "I don't think he would've tried if he hadn't had some reason to think it would be safe," he said at last. He didn't feel that he sounded convincing, even to himself, not any more.

The eldest Thurmer gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sure he thought so," he allowed, "but you have to admit, Minion, that boy always rushed in where angels fear to tread. Not that I'm saying he's a fool, but... I don't know. For all his elaborate plans and schemes, he's always been impatient, too impatient for his own good. He doesn't want to wait for things to happen, he wants to _make _them happen. That can be an admirable trait — or not."

Andrew, who had been studying the monitors a bit more closely, looked up. "I'll give him credit for trying, but..." He clicked his tongue. "I dunno, I saw the new brain scan system at the prison when I was in a few months ago, giving flu shots, and I have a feeling something here is just... wrong."

Before anyone else could respond, Splinter bowged in his cheerfully habitual way. Minion frowned at him as Roxanne loosed a whistly breath. "Yeah, he keeps saying 345," she told the piscine. "Either his internal clock is stuck in place, or he's trying to tell us something else. Is there some kind of error message or system code that uses 345? It might explain something we've been missing."

Elliot, being familiar with computer programming, shook his head. "That's no standard message code that I've ever heard of. Though I doubt there's anything standard about these computers."

Minion confirmed it. "The only times Sir uses any computer language but his own is when he needs it to interface with ordinary systems. Most of the time, he can get around it, anyway. 345 isn't any code I recognize, though heaven only knows what kinds of things he might've added to his operating systems since he started working with the data from our homeworld. He could've incorporated some of that into this system, he designed it after he found the stuff from home — but Splinter wouldn't know that." He looked at the brainbot, frowning with puzzlement. "Would you?"

Splinter's answering bowg was vague, yet strangely cheerful, giving the same response he'd been giving since that morning, which Minion translated for their guests. "Maybe 'system operating normally' _is _what 345 means in whatever computer language that scanner uses," Marcia speculated after hearing the interpretation. "That at least would make sense."

"It would," her father agreed. "And if it _is _operating normally—" He paused, brows furrowed. "What _does _that mean, exactly?"

Minion rubbed his robotic hands together, since he couldn't really hang his head. "I don't know!" he lamented. "It could mean he'll wake up two days from now, a week from now, a month from now, or never! I didn't help Sir design this system or build it, I don't know if I'm misinterpreting what data it's giving us. And if he used things he learned from the Teacher to do it, I can't even compare it to other things he did before and figure it out! This was just the prototype, it doesn't have all the readouts with detailed interpretations like the system he installed at the prison. I just... don't know!"

It was so unlike Minion to show anything even remotely resembling despair, not a one of the others remained unaffected. Roxanne leaned against his arm in an expression of understanding comfort, the four younger Thurmers offered glances of sympathy, the eldest groaned softly in regret. "I'm sorry, son, I didn't mean for you to feel guilty about this. We both know Mykaal, you even better than me. He's always tried to prove himself to the world, and he's pigheaded enough to go right ahead and do what he thinks he has to, and damn the consequences! These days, his heart is in the right place, but he's just as stubborn and determined as ever, I'm sure. I hope he didn't make a mistake that wound up hurting him permanently. Whether they know it or not, I think the world needs him, not so much for his brains as for that stubborn determination, and his optimism. In a world where so many people give up so easily, we _need_ someone like him, someone who doesn't quit even when everyone says he's trying to do something impossible."

"Then maybe we shouldn't quit either, Dad," Elliot said, quietly, thoughtfully. "I know we all want this to be over with before Christmas, but what's really most important? Getting our closure before the holidays, or giving Mom a chance to live?"

Lisa winced. "But to leave her hanging in limbo forever, when we don't even know that the only person who might've had a chance of saving her isn't crippled, too?"

"Lisa!" The hissed admonition came from her sister, the elbow in her ribs from her youngest brother, glares from both her father and Elliot.

Roxanne grimaced. "No, it's the truth," she admitted, hating it, but the reporter in her wouldn't deny it again. "We've been dancing around it, all of us, but it's true. We _don't _know what's happened to Mykaal, what went wrong, why he won't wake up, why he _can't_, when or even _if _he will! It isn't fair to any of you, to ask you to put your lives on hold for a promise he made that he may not be able to keep or—" She gasped to a stop, stopping the flood of words before the emotions driving them pushed her into either screaming or tears that might never end.

Minion and the warden were both about to say something to her when a sharp beeping from the medical scanners interrupted. Andrew, who was standing closest to the monitor screen, turned to them as swiftly as any good nurse would give attention to such sounds of warning. They could all see the flashing of the lights reflecting onto him from the screen.

"This _can't _be good," he said grimly as the others moved to make way for Minion to join him, fast. "I don't know what this means, but..."

The piscine immediately saw his cause for concern, as did the others when they moved so that they could get their own looks. The representation of Megamind's neural activity — which had been glowing a solid, brilliant white for the past three days — had started to flicker, certain areas dimming then brightening, then fading to a faint glow; other areas sputtered fitfully, steadily growing dimmer and dimmer until they went completely dark. The non-graphic data stream flowing across the bottom of the screen continued to flow as it had all along, in numbers and complex codes that made no sense to anyone but the man lying unconscious on the bed.

And perhaps to one brainbot. Splinter started bowging the same thing over and over: _345, 345, 345, 345, 345..._

Frustrated and frightened Roxanne laid both hands on the little bot, frantic, unwilling to watch the screen that was so plainly showing the signs of a brain shifting from overdriven overload to complete and final shutdown. "345, 345!" she snapped, demanding the brainbot's attention. "What is your obsession with 345?"

"I wish I knew!" Minion declared, no less frustrated than she. "Splinter, _what _are you trying to tell us? What does 345 _mean?"_

"...warming up..."

The verbal response was so unexpected, everyone stared in shocked amazement at the brainbot, who'd stopped his repetitive bowging when Roxanne had laid hands on him. Brainbots didn't talk, not in voices that ordinary people could understand — and yet, every last one of them had heard the voice, quite clearly. They all looked at Splinter, bewildered, wondering if he would give more of an explanation. And they heard the voice again.

"...warming up, Minion. My brain is warming up..."

Roxanne gasped, blue eyes wide as she stared at the bot, unbelieving. "_My _brain...?" she repeated. Her head snapped up, first looking at the monitor and all its readouts, her eye by chance catching the small time display in one corner of the screen as it flicked from _3:44_ to _3:45_.

Then she looked at Megamind, still unmoving on the bed, but now wearing a broad, if weak, grin as a few seconds passed. Then slowly and with heavy lids, but with a clear, bright sparkle, his vivid green — and very much alive and aware — eyes opened. "My brain was warming up," he said again, softly, voice rough from disuse, enjoying the ironic little joke on both himself and his first friend.

Roxanne didn't give a damn about irony or jokes of fate or two old friends ribbing each other. She practically leapt over the monitors and their guests and even Minion, launching herself past them to latch onto her husband and let loose all her unshed tears in such intense relief, she was quite sure she would never again let him go.

* * *

><p><em>To be concluded...<em>


	6. Epilogue

_Author's Note: I really wanted to get this finished before a month beyond Christmas had gone by, and happily, my Muse cooperated and let me get it in with a few days to spare! My sincerest thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing, not only this story, but all the others that came before it. With this, I am very close to finishing the uberplot I had in mind when I first began writing fanfic in this genre, and though this isn't the last story I plan to write, most of what I envisioned for Megamind's life from his beginnings to his full transition from villain to hero is about complete. Fear not, there are other tales to be told (the Typhoon Cheese one, in particular; being a descendant of Wisconsin dairy farmers, I can't possibly skip that one), and as real life and my Muse permit, I'll be getting to them!_

* * *

><p>Part Six<br>Epilogue

It took five days for the miracle to be made into a reality.

After Roxanne let Megamind go and Minion had his turn and then Roxanne again, Minion had the happy brainbots bring their Daddy a good big meal with plenty to drink, since as expected, he complained of being hungry and a bit thirsty. He asked the Thurmers to remain, as he explained what he already realized had happened while he devoured his food and Minion happily provided as much as he wanted.

"I was in such a hurry to have _everything _worked out and ready to go in less than a week, I neglected to consider one big variable," Megamind explained between bites of his fourth serving of lasagna. "The assimilation phase. When I didn't include that in the compression algorithm, it wasn't included as a proper part of the teaching process. I needed to include the time it takes for my brain to process all the raw data dumped into it, and I didn't because I rushed things. A stupid mistake, I could've included it and still shortened the process, but I didn't. Splinter was able to interface with the computer scanning my neural processes, and he interpreted what was happening as a normal compilation process, running exactly as it should. And he was right. Knowing what he did, he could peg the exact time I would be finished with that phase and wake up."

Roxanne might've been angry with her husband under different circumstances — and she supposed she would be, at some later date — but not now. She was so relieved to have Megamind awake and aware again and apparently unharmed by the experience, she might never bother to vent at him for his foolish haste. "I think we need to find a better way for the brainbots to communicate with us, or at least some of them," she told her still enthusiastically feasting spouse, where they were all still gathered around the guest room bed. "If we'd only understood what Splinter was _really _trying to tell us..."

Minion sniffed. "It wouldn't've made any difference, unless I'd brought him in sooner. I guess we were all guilty of making some mistakes because we were too quick to jump to conclusions."

"All's well that ends well — if everything _did _end well," the warden said, a bit cryptically. "Did you find out what you needed to know, son?" he asked the eating hero. "Is what you were hoping to do for Emily possible?"

Megamind nodded vigorously as he nodded, his eyes suddenly more bright and alive than they'd been since he'd awakened — almost literally glowing with the inner excitement that lit his entire expressive face. "Oh, yes, it's definitely possible. I've already come up with some of the things that would be needed to do it successfully, on my own, things I used to help myself heal quickly from the beatings I took in my battles with Metro Man, and devices I used in developing the brainbots. I hadn't realized quite the immense potential these things had before, but then, I never _needed _to know, and I had so many other things to keep my mind busy! The possible medical applications for nanotechnology and biomechanics..."

His voice drifted off for a few moments even as his eyes grew brighter. The impression he sometimes gave of the workings of his mind being visible on his face was stronger than ever, and those watching found it startling, even Minion and Roxanne, who knew him so very well. "It can be done, yes," he said more softly, clearly laying plans in his thoughts even as he spoke. "There are some other things that would need to be made beforehand, some highly specialized tools and equipment, but Minion and the brainbots could help me with it — so could you, Roxanne, you're smart, a fast learner, and already know enough about how I work to assist with it. It would take at least a few days to assemble everything, but yes. It can most _definitely _be done."

Almost as if a switch had been thrown, he went from intensely thoughtful to laughter. "I overdid it you know," he admitted through his merriment. "I not only pushed things the wrong way, I went overboard, wanting to be sure I learned absolutely _everything _I might need to know. I think I covered areas of molecular biodynamics and accelerated mitosis in unrelated specialized cloning, not to mention — mmm, a lot of things I could've skipped for now. But they'll be useful, anyway, make things go faster and more smoothly. But it can be done, yes! The Ayalthans learned how, oh, thousands of years ago, with the help of the Potrell, Minion's people."

The ichthyoid, who had been happily listening while he directed the brainbots to bring whatever his ward and Roxanne and any of the guests wanted, was startled, amber eyes wide. "Really, sir?"

Megamind chuckled softly at the question, understanding the subtext clearly. Help but not as in mere service, fetch and carry, do the menial tasks, the heavy lifting, the make-it-look-good, but not the real creativity of designing and planning. "Yes, really, Tori. Remember, your own parents were a microbiologist and an engineer! They were very much a part of all those discoveries, an important part, because the Potrell physiology had an extremely adaptive genetic structure, making it easier for them to adjust to the more changeable demands of underwater life. It can be done, you can help me do it—"

He abruptly looked beyond Minion and Roxanne to Warden Thurmer and his four children, the children who might have been his adopted brothers and sisters, if not for the twist of fate that had led him to make the mistake of pursing a criminal career at far too young an age. He smiled broadly, brilliantly. "All of you can help me do it! Elliot, you have considerable experience with microtechnology, Andy and Marcia, you both have skills with medical equipment, Lisa, your college degree was in chemistry — all of these are skills that can help."

The warden's smile was crooked. "And does this plan call for someone with a degree in criminal justice?" he asked. "Or will it be enough for me to just sit by and hold Emily's hand?"

The blue genius flushed. "That would be more than enough, sir," he replied, truly meaning it. "But if Roxanne is going to help us get ready to do what's needed for Mrs. Thurmer, someone will need to be ready to run interference with the media. I suspect the hospital is already itching to get their hands on more stasis devices like the one we installed in your wife's room, for both good reasons and bad. We asked them to keep it quiet for now, but there've been questions, leaks — haven't there?" His eyes slipped to Roxanne, who nodded.

"Not a lot yet, but yes, there've been questions raised," she told him. "People on the staff know Mrs. Thurmer was admitted, what her condition and prognosis were. They know you and Minion and a group of brainbots went into the hospital to install some sort of equipment, they don't know what; the most common speculation is that it's for security, but that's not the only possibility being tossed about, the tabloids are being their usual lurid selves. And they know that you suddenly 'got sick' right after that. It couldn't've been stopped entirely, all it takes is one nurse, one technician, one janitor asking questions or saying something to the wrong ears. So far, everything is rumor, but they've been persistent, and no matter what you do to keep this from being seen, the fact that someone who should've died will suddenly live, and be whole again..." She shook her head. "It's going to be big news, Mykaal. _Huge _news."

He nodded soberly. "I figured as much. After it's over, no, we can't prevent it from becoming news. _Before _then... I'll need help to do this, quickly and efficiently, and I'll need someone to run interference, keep the media off our backs. You could do it, Roxanne, of course, but I need your help in other ways, much, much more."

The big green eyes returned to the warden. "Do you think you can handle that, sir? Keep the media diverted as long as I need to get this done? It won't be more than a week, I promise."

Thurmer smiled slowly at the blue alien who had been both one of the biggest pains and the most unusual joys of his life. "Mykaal, I was able to keep the media and even the government from touching you and interfering with your life for six years, while you were living in a damn prison. I can keep them from so much as _looking_ your way for as long as you need to get this finished. Even if you need a year, that's a promise."

Megamind sighed with relief. "So you'll let me try? Even if I can't do it instantly?"

The older man's smile broadened. "Son, I asked you to just see if the _possibility_ existed, and you went and put yourself at risk to find the exact ways to do it. Even if I still had any misgivings for myself — which I don't, I've always known you're more capable than even you realized — I know what Emily would want. She'd be mad as hell if I gave up on you after all you've done, and I'd be mad at myself if I did, too. Do it. Whatever it is you need to do to make this healing thing work, just go ahead and do it. We'll help you, any way we can."

He spoke with great conviction, so strong that his four children all nodded their agreement. Roxanne could feel the tension drain from her husband, just through the touch of her hand on his arm. When Megamind said, "I won't let you down," she smiled and kissed his soft blue cheek, adding her loving support, and her conviction that if there was any way in heaven or on Earth to succeed, she had faith that he would find it.

* * *

><p>Three days later, all was ready, and the work of healing Emily Thurmer began. Because it was her brain that required the repairs, the work was more delicate and tricky than it would have been, had her arm or leg or any easily accessible organ been involved. But the process was almost miraculous, once it had begun. Employing nanotechnology that involved DNA specific tissue and temporary organic mechanisms, the procedure introduced the materials at what careful analysis with highly advanced medical scanners pinpointed as the most critically damaged areas of the brain itself, and the various connective and supportive tissues as well.<p>

Megamind was very familiar with some of the basic processes, as he'd done plenty of work with brain cells and cloning and DNA during his development of the brainbots and other genetic explorations, such as the extraction of Wayne's DNA and its conversion to a form that would meld it to an Earth human. But he was no doctor or surgeon, he'd never done actual surgery on another person.

He fretted about it during those days, in the times when Roxanne and Minion and even the Thurmers all leaned on him to rest, since he would be of no use to anyone if he burned himself out. Oh, he now possessed the knowledge of precisely how to do what needed to be done, but he lacked the practical experience, and feared that he might make some critical mistake because he simply didn't have the skill and finesse that came only with practice. Minion was the one best able to reassure him on this account, pointing out to him all the times over the years that he'd had to help with his own healing after battles, and had done the exacting, delicate work of both constructing and repairing the damaged cores of brainbots, many, many times.

That did help bolster his confidence; Roxanne was able to do a bit more by contacting one of her younger and more amiable cousins, Neal Ritchi. He was a neurosurgeon, fresh out of his residency, with a strong desire to find ways to do just the sort of thing that Megamind had learned to do. He was eager to come and help, both as a surgical assistant, an advisor, and an observer, desperate to learn any techniques that he might be able to carry over into and use to improve the effectiveness of his own practice.

When it was finished — the preparations as well as the job of making the actual implants that would affect the healing, literally rebuilding and regenerating the damaged parts of Emily's brain while carefully preserving as much of the structure as possible, to prevent her from suffering any significant memory loss — Mrs. Thurmer was moved into a highly secured but otherwise ordinary hospital room, to begin her recovery. By the time she was settled into the room, her vital signs were largely back to normal and continued to improve by the hour. Before two more days had passed, she opened her eyes, saw her waiting family, smiled and knew them and spoke to them. On Christmas Eve, though the regeneration process was not quite finished, she was ready to return home.

"It really _was _a miracle," Roxanne told Megamind when they'd returned home themselves, finally able to relax, secure in the knowledge that Mrs. Thurmer was truly healed. The media hounds, they would come next, though Roxanne had spent her time since the surgery was over to work on ways to break this news to the world. It couldn't be kept secret, and neither she nor Megamind wanted it to be, it was simply too important. He had every intention of recording all the information necessary to do this kind of work so that it could be shared with those doctors who wanted to learn, but now that it was over, the whole thing had the blue hero shaking in his faux baby seal leather boots.

"It was technology," he countered quietly, in the very subdued manner that had clung to him since the day of the surgery. "Of an extremely high level, granted, and I suppose that Clarke is right, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, or miracles. I don't think I want the reputation of being a miracle worker or a magician, and spend the rest of my life performing this same magic trick, over and over. I'm not a doctor, and I don't want to be forced into it."

She nodded. "Which is why I called in my cousin Neal. He has a good heart and a good head on his shoulders, and he _does _want to spend the rest of his life healing people. He'll help set up a way of teaching these techniques once you have them in a form others can learn from, and Wayne will help with providing any manufacturing or lab and supply connections and facilities to make the necessary equipment and such. They're both trustworthy. They won't let the information be abused, and _I _won't let the media and other people hound you."

Megamind was quiet as they walked across the garage floor of the Lair, headed for the elevator to the living quarters. It was the evening of Christmas Eve, now, and while brainbot patrols were out, helping to maintain the city's peace, those in the Lair were doing a splendid job of behaving themselves, as an early "gift" to their Daddy and Mommy. A frown creased the blue hero's broad brow. "Oh, they'll do that, I expect it after all these years. It's..." He considered his words before continuing. "Did you see the looks the doctors and nurses that were allowed to watch the procedure or to come into Mrs. Thurmer's room kept giving me?"

Roxanne smiled, but didn't make little of his question. "You mean the ones who were astonished by the fact that _you _had done it, or the ones who were worried that you were going put them out of work?"

He grimaced. "I mean the ones who were whispering about me 'playing God.'" He snorted, both annoyed and worried. "I wasn't playing God, Roxanne, I wasn't playing at all! I told you, this wasn't a miracle, it wasn't magic, it was just knowledge my ancestors had that I learned to use again. Okay, I came up with ways to streamline and accelerate the process all on my own — but that doesn't mean I was playing, God or anything else! I don't want to _be _a god, can't they understand that? All the bragging and boasting and making a huge show of all my schemes and plots and inventions — that was giving myself the acceptance I didn't think I'd _ever _get from the rest of the world. This is nothing like that! I'm supposed to be a _hero, _now, and someone I cared about needed help! Isn't that what a hero does, tries to find ways to help when everyone else gives up?"

Roxanne could tell how upset he was by the fact that instead of gesturing broadly, as was his habit when excited or disturbed, he had his arms wrapped about his slender torso, tightly, as if armoring himself against the attack of bitter cold. Skilled at handling his many moods, she kissed his ear, gently, her soft caresses making him loosen his tight stance enough for her to slip a hand under his arm and cajole him into opening up for her. He sighed softly as he relaxed his arms to let her wrap her own around him, not needing her nudge to return the gesture. She felt good against him, warm and loving, and being able to pull her closer into his own embrace made him feel accepted, if only by her.

The reporter settled into the hug, resting her head in the curve of his long neck and strong shoulder. "Of course it is, sweetie," she assured him. "And no matter what those people said, they knew that all you really did was the best you could. This 'playing God' nonsense just says how little they thought you _could _do, and they didn't like being wrong. New things frighten some people, especially people with narrow minds."

He grumped, though he did nothing to withdraw from her arms, or the soft, affectionate kisses she placed against his neck and jaw. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, taking comfort from its fragrant silkiness. "This means we're going to hear screaming from the religious fanatics, then. They have the narrowest minds of all, when it comes to powerful things they don't understand."

He could feel her smile grow a bit wider and craftier as she laid a gentle kiss on his neck. "Already on it," she promised. "I have connections on the Metro County Ecumenical Council, and I've spoken to a couple of key members about this, on the QT. They'd like to talk with you before going public, when the time comes — and _not _to find things to use against you, or burn you at the stake. They're fascinated by the little I've told them, and they'd like to understand better how the process works, if you can find ways to give them the basic concepts in language that won't confuse them."

She chuckled softly. "Eli Singer, one of the rabbis on the council, practically jumped through his phone, trying to get to wherever I was, to see everything right away. He's always believed that science is simply us learning to understand the works of God, that God _wants _us to learn all we can, to make the world a better place. He'd stand behind you without knowing anything more than the fact that you found a way to save Emily Thurmer from dying or being crippled by a massive stroke. And others will, too, you'll see."

She lifted her head and withdrew from the embrace only enough to look into her husband's green eyes. "So, even if we have trouble from fanatics, we'll have support from reasonable people with better reputations. But that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

Megamind shook his head, now tilting it so that his temple rubbed against hers. "I'm glad I could help Mrs. Thurmer, and I don't regret finding out how to do it, or making it possible for others to do it. But... When I started this, I didn't really think about how I'd feel afterwards, I just figured I'd be happy and relieved that I could do _something. _I've barely scratched the surface of all the data that was sent with me, Roxanne. A part of me wants to keep going, to keep right on learning until I've gone through everything in that box, and then find ways to do even more things with what I know."

He took a long, deep breath, then released it in a huge sigh. "And another part of me is absolutely terrified. Would doing all that make me a different person, a _real _alien, not just an extraterrestrial? And _should _anyone ever know _that much? _ Is this legacy of mine worth having if I screw up when I try to use it, or if other people use what I learn in terrible ways, or if people think I'm trying to set myself up as God — and if I save one life, does that mean that I have to save _every _life, all the time, no matter what or when? What happens when people start demanding that I find ways to put an end to death, bring people back to life...? I can't _do _that! My people weren't immortal, they couldn't stop accidents from happening, couldn't put an end to death — they never really _tried_, I know that much, they didn't think it was right. I'm supposed to be exceptional, special, someone who could change the world — but I don't _want _to change it that way! I _can't! _I—"

He was getting hysterical, not merely agitated, and Roxanne stilled him by laying one hand across his mouth and leaning against him, reassuring him with the warmth of her presence. "Shh, sweetie, it's okay, it's okay," she said, as gently as she knew how, her other hand stroking the back of his head and neck. "I thought you'd worked all of this out last year, just after you first used the Teacher, but I guess not."

When she could feel that Megamind had calmed, she removed the hand on his mouth to kiss him tenderly while she continued her soothing caresses. She added a small kiss to the tip of his sharp nose before speaking again. "Did something happen to bring all this back? Something besides the worry about the press and prejudiced idiots, that is."

"Yes," he admitted, the word another sigh. "I thought it would be easy to stay objective about the things I learned, keep it all detached, impersonal. Advances to things like power supplies, water purification, manufacturing process, weapons, computing — they can be exciting, but..."

He paused, searching for the right words to explain what he was feeling. "This isn't objective, and it's definitely _not_ impersonal. Looking at someone who was hurt and dying open her eyes again, talk again, get up on her own two feet and return home, knowing she'll be back to normal soon, and that _you _were responsible for healing her...!"

Roxanne needed no further explanation. "That would feel awesome — and awfully scary, you're right. It _would_ feel like playing God. But I _know_ you, Mykaal, and I know that's not why you did it. Even if other people make that stupid accusation, anyone who knows the _real_ you would never believe it."

The ex-villain let her words settle into his thoughts for several moments. "Will you always feel that way?" the uncertain hero asked then, in a small voice.

"Always," she replied without a trace of hesitation. She then grinned, impishly. "Do you want me to prove it?"

Megamind nibbled on his lower lip, reluctant to admit to such terrible neediness, but in light of all the emotional upheavals of late, he couldn't deny it.

He nodded, and her grin grew wider, more mischievous. "Good! It _is _Christmas Eve, and I know everything's kind of off schedule because of what's been going on, no big party until New Year's Eve, Minion's gone to Ypsilanti to pick up Astrid so we'll all be here to celebrate tomorrow. But I have a few presents for you that I wanted to give you in private, anyway — you know, things from that online shop where you bought that little silver number you surprised me with on that snowy day a few weeks ago."

The abashed hero blushed, remembering that _very _enjoyable day, when he'd fulfilled a deal they'd made during the photoshoot for his charity calendar, a few months earlier. She'd only wanted to take pictures of him posing on a fur rug in front of the den's fireplace, as her own photographer had done with her when she'd made a similar calendar for charity; it had been entirely his idea to add the seductive little striptease to make the payoff more enjoyable for them both.

Even as he blushed at the memory, he smiled wickedly. "Are you requesting a repeat performance, my dear Ms Ritchi?" he asked in his best and silkiest tones.

She responded with a kiss and an even more wicked smile. "Actually," she purred huskily, "I was thinking more along the lines of starting by returning the favor — for _you_. After that... we'll just have to improvise. Are you any good at that, Mr. Evil Overlord?" she challenged. "Or do you need a hundred-step detailed plan for everything?"

Smirking, Megamind wrapped his arms around her more tightly, gave her a long, deep, lingeringly passionate kiss—

—then in a quite unexpected and rare show of his actual strength, he scooped her up and tossed her over one shoulder. Roxanne put on a less than half-hearted show of protest as her husband carried her to the elevator and cheerfully sang out, "Alfred! Get a fire started in the den, Mommy and Daddy will be there in a few minutes to warm up! And make sure the fire is _in the fireplace, _this time!"

They were both laughing as the doors closed behind them.

ooo

And hours later, when they finally snuggled together to sleep for the night, sated by the ecstasy of all the intimacies they had shared — of body and heart, mind and soul — Mykaal no longer had any worries about this part of whatever might lie ahead. No matter what he became as the result of embracing his destiny, no matter how the rest of the world accepted or rejected it or him, he knew beyond any doubt that Roxanne would be with him, and love him. She would always believe in him — and holiday or no holiday, that certainty alone was the greatest gift of all.

* * *

><p><em>Finis<em>


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